


Look May, I’m an Avenger!

by Peps4lyfe



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: BAMF Avengers, BAMF Peter Parker, BAMF Tony Stark, BAMF Wanda Maximoff, Family, Gen, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker is an Avenger, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Pre-Infinity War, Protective Avengers, Protective Tony Stark, Protective Wanda Maximoff, Spider-Man: Homecoming Compliant, Team as Family, mostly canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2018-12-10 02:47:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 84,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11682441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peps4lyfe/pseuds/Peps4lyfe
Summary: Peter Parker is dying to become an Avenger, and now his dream is coming true.  He juggles the responsibilities of being an Avenger, being the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and being a full-time junior at Midtown School.  At first, he doesn’t know how he’ll manage but with the help of his new family and surrogate dad, Tony Stark, nothing is impossible.Peter’s first mission: survive against an army of robots bred specifically to kill him.





	1. Peter Needs a New Suit

**Author's Note:**

> I really liked Spider-Man: Homecoming and, while Peter had his reasons to not become an Avenger, I wanted to explore what would happen if he did take up Tony's offer.
> 
> Other than Peter becoming an Avenger, the other major canon changes is that the Iron-Spider suit isn't ready just yet and the other Avengers knows Peter's real identity :)

Chapter One: Peter Needs a New Suit

Peter Parker is having a long day.  Scratch that.  Peter Parker is having a long _month_. His muscles are still reeling from the fight he got into with a guy trying to jack a few houses on the upper east side of Manhattan and what he needs right now is a long, uninterrupted nap.  “Peter, are you feeling alright?” says the familiar voice in Peter’s head.  Karen, his AI.  She’s technically not a real person, but she’s a friend and Peter likes her company when he’s flying around as Spider-Man.  He sometimes gets lonely.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine Karen,” Peter replies, breathless.

He lands swiftly on top of the edge of a rooftop of a high-standing apartment building.  The next building is of the same height and it’s as equally deserted as the one Peter is standing on now.  He flings webs back and forth along the walls of the two buildings.  He’s done this plenty of times, so it doesn’t take Peter a long time to finish.  Swaying gently in the wind is now a perfectly crafted hammock that curves slightly at the edges.  He makes a pretty thick ball of webbing and then throws it onto the hammock.  Carefully, Peter collapses onto the soft hammock.  He lies on his back, leaning his head against the pillow-ball he just made.  He looks up at the sun.  “Activate nap-mode,” Peter commands.  Karen does and the slots over his eyes suddenly darken, blocking the light from reaching his eyes.  He’s at complete bliss, and he’s ready to sleep for a few hours.

“What time would you like for me to wake you up?” Karen asks.

Peter yawns.  “Maybe in a couple of hours.”

“Sounds good, Peter,” Karen says.

School is weighing him down more than Peter expects.  He’s trying to balance calculus, on top of chemistry, on top of the Academic Decathlon.  He wants to quit the Decathlon, but he won’t.  He likes the Decathlon team, and he knows that Michelle Jones, the new captain now that Liz lives in Oregon (that’s a different story, and Peter feels so guilty about that he tries hard not to think about it), relies on Peter to win. But school isn’t the half of it.  Ned is always finding new ways to build a bigger and better Death Star.  Michelle is _always_ around whenever Peter is trying to sneak off so he has to go through extra precautions to keep Michelle from seeing anything he doesn’t want her to see.  And Aunt May.  Now that’s a mess.  She’s always calling him.  She’s always checking up on him or tracking his cell phone.  She’s normally pretty protective of Peter.  Her worrying about Peter’s well being, especially since he still acts like a dumb teenager, isn’t new to him, but she’s been checking up on Peter a lot more.

That’s his fault, and he knows it.  He still kicks himself for not closing the door when he was trying on his suit.  It isn’t his fault — at least that’s what Peter keeps telling himself.  Tony Stark sent Peter his suit back.  He called May’s name a few times and she didn’t answer.  Peter didn’t expect May to walk inside and see him in the Spider-Man suit.  

“It’s — it’s just a costume.  I’m a fan.  Big fan actually.  Borderline stalker.  I swear,” Peter stammers when he hears May behind him.  His face is flushing red.

May doesn’t believe him.  She always knows when Peter is lying.  It takes Peter a very long time to explain to May how he got bit by a spider on a field trip, his new unbelievable powers, how the Stark Internship is a cover for being the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man that Queens grew to love and how Peter is now the newest Avenger.  That one really scares Aunt May because she knows what the Avengers fight and she’s seen the damage in New York first hand.  Loki, the one dude with the horns and the glowing stick, did a real number on Manhattan a few years back.  And May still thinks about how Ultron could have wiped out most, if not all, of earth’s population after he turned Sokovia into his personal meteor.

Pretty scary stuff, but Peter’s excited.  He dreams of being an Avenger almost every night.  After what happens in Germany, it doesn’t look like there’s a good chance Captain America and Mr. Stark would reconcile.  But come on. _It’s the Avengers._ They always stay together in the end.  The meeting between Captain America and Mr. Stark that happens a year after what the media dubs as the latest civil war is highly publicized.  In walks Mr. Stark wearing this super cool white tux and behind him, Colonel Rhodes.  He kind of intimidates Peter because he’s so serious and doesn’t seem that interested in coming up with a peace agreement.  He has crutches now, but it’s amazing that he can walk.  Vision also accompanies Mr. Stark and Rhodes. Vision is _weird._ But that gem in his head is mighty powerful.  All the lasers and being able to change mass is _awesome_.  He’s a pretty quiet guy, more into observing than speaking, but Peter thinks Vision is just shy. He’s diplomatic, though, and it’s Vision’s doing that prompts the meeting.

On the other side is Captain America. When Peter sees Cap after he’s been in hiding, Peter can’t say he isn’t a little shocked.  He’s scruffy now.  Not the clean shaven, “ _patience”_ guy in those stupid little school videos the governor of New York had Steve make.  He reminds Peter of a wild west guy, in dark clothing and weary eyes, ready to take names and kick some serious ass whenever he feels bored.  Beside him walks Sam Wilson.   _Birdman._ And then that one guy with the metal arm.  Peter still remembers those two pretty well.  He’s still riding pretty high on the fact that Peter is strong enough to take those two down, like he did in the airport, even when they’re obviously older and more experienced. Leading the entire meeting is T’Challa. Black Panther.  One of the coolest people Peter thinks he’s ever seen.  Peter isn’t sure what went down Siberia, but he knows T’Challa had a change of heart.  He makes this public announcement about how he is no longer after the Winter Soldier and how he feels pretty guilty about attacking Team Cap.  The media goes crazy over that, too.  

The meeting between Team Cap and Team Iron Man goes well and they leave, shaking hands and smiling uneasily.  The reporters and cameramen are in love with Mr. Captain’s smiles and his new appearance but, despite their requests, he doesn’t give a statement.  He just says something along the lines of “all is well” and then he and his companions disappear in a car.  Mr. Stark of course gives a statement to the press. Behind all the fluffy words that everything’s okay now, Peter knows better.  It’s fake smiles and fake pleasantries, especially when Mr. Stark starts talking about Bucky. Peter doesn’t know why there’s such bad blood between Mr. Stark and the Winter Soldier.  He wants to know.  He thinks he can help.  After all, no one can resistant the kid on the team who’s trying to make amends, but Mr. Stark doesn’t want to tell Peter and Peter doesn’t want to make Mr. Stark do anything he doesn’t want.

This all happens around the same time Peter becomes an Avenger, so it’s hard not to feel a little neglected when Peter shows up at the compound, ready to set up his room and Mr. Stark is busy trying to get everyone else moved in.  Things are getting cramped at the compound.  Mr. Cap gets his own room and so does the Winter Soldier and Birdman.  They don’t leave the compound much, so Peter understands why Mr. Stark gives them their own rooms. Vision doesn’t have any other home so he has his own room as well.  They all have offices, too.  There’s also a room for Rhodes, since Mr. Stark likes having him nearby and since he’s the one building new legs for Colonel Rhodes.  The other Avengers, Dr. Banner, Thor, Black Widow and Hawkeye, aren’t there that often.  No one really knows where Thor and Dr. Banner are, so their bedrooms are converted to guestrooms. Hawkeye is technically retired so he doesn’t get a room. Black Widow has a more permanent residence at the Avengers Compound.  She is still recovering from her own actions during the civil war.  She turned her back on the government, so she’s been on the run for as long as Cap.  Widow’s hair is blonde now, but she’s still _hot_.  And the Scarlet Witch keeps her distance, too, especially at first.  Peter remembers how powerful she is, how she nearly killed every single one of the government’s men who came to arrest Team Cap.  She only stops when she realizes that these government agents are going to kill Clint, Sam and that other guy, the arthropod.  Peter doesn’t know what Wanda Maximoff went through when she was under arrest, but she hasn’t gotten over it.  She does a good job pretending she’s okay, but Peter’s perceptive for a sixteen year old. Whenever Peter’s spending a few days at the compound, he sometimes hears her cry. Steve and Vision are in her room a lot. Long story short, Peter has the tiniest room in the compound.  He’s okay with that since he still lives with Aunt May.

Anyway, his sophomore year’s crazy.  Peter still remembers the frustration when he doesn’t think Tony Stark is listening, and how terrifying it is to realize that the Vulture is Liz Allan’s dad.  It’s halfway through his sophomore year when Peter defeats the Vulture and Mr. Stark offers him a permanent spot on the Avenger’s team. Peter takes the position tentatively, with the one request that he can continue to attend Midtown School of Science and Technology.  Everyone has their own sub-missions, but there’s never been an occasion for the entire Avengers Team. Peter’s always restless, though, and he hates not having something to do so he still kicks some criminal ass whenever he gets the chance.

Peter’s been thinking for so long he doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep.  What wakes him up is a strong gust of wind that jerks the hammock around, enough to blow Peter to the side, hazardously.  The tingling in the back of his head is so strong that Peter thinks he’s being electrocuted.  He feels himself falling before he actually is.  “Karen, Karen, out of nap mode!  Out of nap mode!” Peter screams.  The eyes to his suit lighten and he can see the ground rapidly approaching.  He flings a web to the top of the roof and the web strains under the sudden weight.  He flies forward, body ramming into the side of the building. “Shit…” Peter mutters.

“This has happened three times.  Should I start reminding you that this a bad idea?” Karen asks.

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter says.  “Karen, can you get me to my backpack?”

“Of course, Peter,” Karen says, and a digital map of New York is pulled up in Peter’s line of sight.  

She directs him through the streets to get to his backpack right where he left it.  He doesn’t consider taking a bus to his backpack, though it’s miles away.  Peter loves flying through the city.  It allows him to see a view of New York that he normally wouldn’t get to enjoy.  And it gives Peter the chance to practice.  He’s yelling out in joy and waving as he sees people pointing to the little red and blue guy flinging himself from building to building.  

Peter’s almost to his backpack when the back of his head starts tingling again.  He latches onto the side of a building, pressing himself against the wall.  “Hey, Karen, do you see any — what the hell is that?!” Peter can’t stop himself from yelling.

Just a few feet below him is the sight of a _robot_.  A huge red one with a telescope for a head and these metal rods that looked like tentacles. In any other situation, Peter would have been totally excited to see a real-live robot but right now, Peter’s head is going crazy, and he could feel his muscles activating without command.  Right now, all Peter knows is that this robot is a threat. He leaps from the building he is latched onto and flies toward the one next to him. He scales up the side of the building and a little bit higher up in order to get a better look.  “Hey, Karen, zoom in onto that logo,” Peter whispers.  His sight focuses in on a little symbol near the top of the robot’s head.  It’s this weird horse with a pendulum behind it. He knows that he’s seen that symbol before but he doesn’t know where. “Let’s just take a picture,” Peter says, and Karen does.  “Hey, do you think he can hear—”

In that same second, this long tentacle shoots from the side of the robot.  It wraps itself around Peter’s foot, yanking him away from the side of the building.  “Yep, it can hear us!” Peter yells as he loses his grip on the building, flailing upside down.  “Okay, okay, this is not good!”  Peter points his web shooter toward a rooftop.  It latches on and Peter prepares to fly upwards.  As he nearly gets himself free, another tentacle makes it way across Peter’s other ankle.  

And then something wet spews itself across Peter’s suit.  It smells terrible.  “Oh god, what is that?!” Peter says.  

He’s pulls onto the web rope a little bit more but whatever that spray is, it makes it a lot harder for Peter to keep his grip on the web.  He accidentally lets go and goes clattering onto the nearest dumpster.  He groans, scrambling to get back to his feet. The robot is now staring down at Peter. Peter stares into that telescope-like eye. It’s just one empty hole.

Peter takes a deep breath.  He jumps off the side of the dumpster, flinging himself nearly to the same height of the robot and yells, “Grenade web thing!” He expects for a small ball of webbing to fly out and then trap the robot in a net. _Nothing_. Distracted, Peter crashes onto the ground. “Karen?!” He yells.  Peter flings his hand forward, trying to attach a web a few buildings down.  Maybe he could get pretty far and then fling himself forward and kick the telescope head right off the robot's body.  No webbing came flying out. “Karen?!”  Peter says again.  “What’s going on?”

“Webbing systems compromised,” Karen says, almost frantic for an AI system.

“Oh, that’s not good…” Peter mutters.  He jumps off the dumpster again, clinging onto the  wall and trying to make a break for the balcony above. He feels his hands detaching itself from the side of the building.  “No, no, no, no, no!”  He’s falling again and this time he has no way to catch himself.  Peter groans as he hits the ground roughly but before he can catch his breath, the tentacles are back, wrapping themselves around Peter. Honestly, Peter’s dealt with tougher shit than this so really, Peter is more concerned about the state of his suit and the fact that none of his dope gadgets are working right now.

“Look,” Peter says to the robot.  He’s barely able to move with the amount of tentacles that are around his limbs now. “Look, I don’t want any trouble here sir — bot, whatever you are. Okay, okay, maybe you could let go of me,” Peter asks politely.  The grip on the tentacles is starting to be unbearable, crushing him.  Peter reacts. He’s kicking his limbs around blindly and he hits the center of the robot’s chest.  He kicks it again, muscles straining against the strength of the tentacles.  There’s a little dent in the metal now, and he feels pretty good about himself.  Peter takes a few steps back and then lunges forward, feet hitting the center of the bot’s chest pretty hard, enough that the grip starts to loosen and the head of the telescope starts to droop.

“Peter, your Aunt is calling.  Would you like me to answer?” Karen asks.

Peter’s eyes grow wide.  “Uh, tell her I'm busy!”  Peter thinks fast.  “Karen, loosen up the suit!” A second later, he feels the tight grip of the spandex on his chest and legs slacken.  He starts squirming his way out the arms and legs, part of his heart wrenching as he tears himself away from his suit.

“She keeps calling,” Karen asks.  “She wanted you home by 8:00.”

“What time is it now?!” Peter asks.  

“9:30,” Karen says.

Peter groans in response.

He’s free now, left in just his boxers.  It’s pretty chilly out but his muscles are exhausted and overheated that the cool air feels great.  The robot is fixated on the Spider-Man suit, shredding it to pieces.  He scrambles in the direction of his backpack. He’s half-naked, doesn’t have any shoes on, and is trying really hard to be remain inconspicuous. _Just another day in the office, if you ask me_ , Peter thinks to himself as he rounds the corner. As he runs, he thinks about the robot.  Who created that? How is it controlled?  What is that sticky stuff?  Why did it attack Peter?

When he gets his backpack, he checks his phone and groans.  He’s not just late.  He’s _super_ late, which means May is probably _super pissed_.  He scrambles to get into his spare change of clothes (thank god no one stole his backpack otherwise this would be a lot harder to explain to the landlord) and then he’s off.  He’s running to his home now, managing to make his way from the alley to his home in a matter of minutes, all the way avoiding everyone.  Another perk of his spidey-sense Peter’s been working on developing over the past few months. When he gets inside, May is sitting at the table, cup of tea in her hands, glasses perched on her forehead and she’s glaring.

“Uh, how’s it going May?” Peter asks awkwardly.  He’s still pretty tired, despite the nap.  She doesn’t respond, and Peter knows that’s a bad sign.  He looks around, seizing an apple.  “You want some fruit?  Or how about—” He looks in the freezer and sees promising food.  “Ice cream?”

“Peter,” May says.  Her voice is stern. “Where have you been?”

“I accidentally fell asleep…” Peter attempts. That isn’t a lie so Peter doesn’t feel guilty saying that.

“And that was all you’ve been doing since after school?” May says.  She narrows her eyes and Peter knows he caught.  May can see that Peter is accepting defeat and she sighs.  More of a growl, really.  “Peter, I’m letting you do this Avenger thing if you don’t fall behind in school and if you keep taking care of yourself!  And you know what, I’m starting to have my doubts.”

“May — May,” Peter insists.  “Really, I’m fine.  I just needed a little nap.  See?”  He picks up an apple, throws in the air with one hand and catches it with the either. “Reflexes are on point, which means I’m really not that tired.  I’m totally okay.  And I’m not falling behind in school.  I promise.”

May doesn’t look convinced.  “Is that because you’ve been staying up past two every night to finish your homework?” May asks.

Peter groans.  Before this conversation, Peter is convinced that he’s being more careful than that and that Aunt May is completely asleep when he starts doing his homework.  Apparently, Peter is dead wrong.  “It’s nothing you need to worry about, May,” Peter says. “ I just need to get back into the swing of things.”

“It’s October, Peter,” May seethes.  “Junior year has just started.  You should not be this behind by now.  That’s it. I’m calling Tony.”

She goes toward her phone, but Peter rushes to stop her. He is wrapping his hand around May’s fingers and moving her hand out of reach of her cell phone.  “May, May,” he says, clearly panicked.  “It’s nothing you need to worry about.  It’s just this week, I promise.  Once I ace these tests tomorrow, the work load will ease up.”

May still looks suspicious but she sighs. “Okay,” she says, getting up.  She presses her fingers against Peter’s cheeks and kisses him on the forward. “Wait a second. _Tests tomorrow_?!”

 _Whoops_ , Peter thinks. _Didn’t mean for that to slip out._  He’s already closing the door to his bedroom before May can stop him.

* * *

He left his calc class the next morning, yawning so much his eyes are watering. Peter’s pretty confident he aced his calc test, and he’s also just as confident the English essay he wrote last night (first draft _and_ final draft) on _the Great Gatsby_ is pretty killer, too.  When he turned in his calc test, he fell asleep a second later and Peter only wakes up after Ned practically pushes him out of the chair.  He’s riding on two hours of sleep, two cups of coffee and a rockstar he had at lunch.  If May ever finds out the kind of bad habits Peter’s developing right now, she’d burn his suit.  

Peter is making his way to his locker now, practically running.  Ned is waiting there, a huge smile on his face.  “So Robocop went Robocop on you last night?” Ned squeals. The news is going crazy about the robot fight; someone across the street recorded it.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Peter says.  He likes having Ned around.  Not just because their friendship goes farther back than Peter could remember but because it is nice for Peter to have someone with whom he could talk animatedly about his adventures as Spider-Man.  Even though May knew his secret identity, Peter couldn’t exactly talk to her about this sort of stuff.  She would just yell at him for getting involved in such dangerous things.

“And it ate your suit?” Ned gasps.

Peter cringes.  It’s still too painful for him to think about.  “Yeah.  I mean, the guy had tentacles wrapped around me and it was malfunctioning, anyway.  Maybe Mr. Stark can build me a new suit,” Peter says, hopeful.

“Why was it malfunctioning?” Ned says.

Peter shrugs.  “Not sure.  It sprayed this liquid stuff all over me and then it stopped working.”

“Robot semen?” Ned offers.

“What?! No!  I mean, I hope not...” Peter says, horror-struck.  He changes the subject quickly.  “I’m gonna need to call Mr. Stark right when I get home from school so that he can start working on a new suit for me.  I tried calling him last night but he didn’t answer his phone.  Neither did Happy but that’s nothing new for me…”

“Did you try calling Captain America?” Ned says.

“No.  We’re not quite on the phone-calling stage of our relationship,” Peter admits. “He’s still a little bitter about the whole me-taking-Tony’s-side-in-Germany thing. Don’t worry.  We’re getting there. It’s just—”

Ned shoves his elbow into Peter’s chest and then nods toward someone approaching them.  Peter looks up and sees Michelle, dark denim jacket on and hair frizzy and falling out of her loose ponytail, making her way over to them.  She’s not paying attention to where she’s going: her eyes are trained on the pages of whatever novel she’s currently reading.  She stops to look up at Peter and Ned.  “You two.  What are you losers doing tonight?”

“Nothing really.  Why?”  Ned says, grinning. “You wanna hang out with us?”

She stares at Peter and Ned for a long time and then she scoffs, rolling her eyes.  “No.” She walks away without looking back again.

“Weird,” Ned says watching as Michelle leaves.  

Peter doesn’t take his eyes off of Michelle’s retreating figure until he’s confident she’s out of eyesight and, thus, earsight.  He looks over to Ned and says, “I’m hoping that when I call Mr. Stark tonight that he’ll offer me a spot on mission.  One of them has to have something planned over the weekend.  You know.  One of the ones that the other Avengers are in charge of.  How cool would that be?  If I got to go along on a mission?  I’m pretty sure Tony would want me to work with Black Widow.  You know. Spider to spider kind of a thing.”

“Of course,” Ned agrees.  “Do you think Black Widow will help with the robot thing?”

Peter shakes his head.  “Nah.  That doesn’t really seem like her thing.  Maybe I’ll get Vision to go with me!”

The two friends spend another few minutes gushing about which Avenger would be the most helpful to Peter when it comes to fighting the robot. They rush to their next class when they realize they’re about to be late and Peter has a hard time sitting through communications class.  The bell rings and Peter’s already scrambling back to his apartment.  He thinks that if he runs, he can get back to the apartment a little faster, which means he can call Tony Stark sooner, which means he can go back to being Spider-Man for longer.  May is at work so Peter has the entire apartment to himself. He yanks his phone out of his backpack and starts FaceTiming Mr. Stark.  Normally, Mr. Stark prefers Peter to contact Happy Hogan first unless it’s an emergency.  And Peter not having his suit _is an emergency._ The phone rings for a couple of seconds and then Mr. Stark’s face appears on the screen.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter says excitedly.  He leans back in his chair and takes in the appearance of his mentor.  Peter can tell Mr. Stark’s moustache was recently trimmed, but Peter can also notice how utterly worn out Mr. Stark’s eyes are, like he hasn’t had a good night's sleep in a few days. “Mr. Stark, are you doing alright?  You don’t look so good.”

“It’s called getting old.  You’ll understand in thirty years,” Mr. Stark says, gruffly.  “Good job on that robot thing that was on the news.  I was gonna call you later but—”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Peter interrupts. “Anyway, I wanted to call you because when I was fighting that robot guy, I had to think quick and get out of my suit so that that robot could attack the suit and not me. So I just wanted to let you know that I don’t have a suit anymore and—”

“Tony,” a young woman says.  “Where’re the coffee grounds?”

Wanda Maximoff.  Peter would recognize that accent, as faded as it is, anywhere. Wanda comes into view now.  Mr. Stark gave her new suit that’s more badass and unique than whatever she was wearing during the civil war.  Replacing the bright red overcoat and the uncomfortable looking corset is this dark red zip-up jacket with a collar that wraps around her neck and flaps that drape around her waist and reach the back of her knees. She wears black leather pants and black elbow-length gloves.  What always catches Peter’s attention the most is the red headband pulling her long brown hair out of her soft, refined face.  Wanda’s always been nice to Peter so Peter smiles pleasantly when he sees.  But he’s immediately concerned when he sees that the corner of her forehead is marred with a terrible looking scab.

“If they aren’t by the coffee maker, there’s probably some in the pantry.  Not the one right in the kitchen but the bigger one by the garage,” Tony says.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what happened to your forehead?” Peter asks but Wanda’s already out of the screen.  He looks to Tony for information.  “And why is she all dressed up?  And asking for coffee?  It’s 3:00.”

Tony bites down on his lip.  “She just woke up.  Nat was doing some martial arts fighting and…” A crash in the background stops Tony mid-sentence and he turns to look.  His eyes narrow.  “Hey!  Seriously, you two?  Wilson, no flying in the house and… Bucky, give Steve his shield back!” Tony pauses and then frowns.  “Because you already have a vibranium arm!  You don’t need a vibranium shield, too!”

Peter raises his eyebrow.  He knows that when all the Avengers are together, Tony has a hard time keeping them under control, but they don’t just wear their suits for the fun of it. “Hey, why does Sam have his wings on?  And why does Steve have his shield?”

Peter’s friend, Steve Rogers aka Captain America (Peter still can’t believe that he gets to call Captain America his friend) appears before Tony can answer all of his questions completely.  He looks pretty tired and is wearing that much better suit compared to the really cheesy blue and red patriotic suit that he wore back in the 1940’s.  His new suit is black with a few red stripes on his arms and the outline of a star in the center.  His hair is pretty messed up and his suit is completely covered in soot. Like Wanda, he has a couple of scrapes on his face.  “I’ll make sure Bucky and Sam clean up that lamp… _again_ ,” Steve says.  He yawns and looks at the phone, “How are you, Peter?”

“I’m good.  A little tired but I’m okay, man — sir… your honor,” Peter stammers.  Steve just smiles and then walks away.  “Why is he all dressed up? Did you guys just come from a mission?!” Peter exclaims, the only explanation he could think of.

“No, no.  I told you people are a little beat up from training and I’m updating everyone’s suits.  I’m just trying to see what needs fixing.  That’s why they’re wearing it.  Trust me.  It’s not a mission,” Tony says.

A second later, Natasha Romanoff comes into view and Peter flushes red even more than when he is trying to talk to Captain America without making a fool of himself. She’s _so hot_ and badass.  Probably one of the coolest people Peter’s ever gotten to meet.  Her blonde hair is swept to the side and it makes eyes pop even more.  She’s also wearing that leather suit.  “Good call on the mission today, Tony.  Who would’ve have known one of your wild hunches would have actually been correct?” She teases, hitting Tony lightly on the arm and then walking out of sight.

Peter turns to Tony, appalled.  He can see Tony’s mind racing as he tries to think of a legitimate excuse for what Nat said but Tony shakes his head and sighs.  Tony’s reaction confirms everything Peter suspects.  “You guys _were_ on a mission together!” Peter says.  “Why didn’t you call me?!”  He’s utterly offended.  Peter can’t help but feel that way.  He’s been dying to go on a mission with the team.  Tony knows that.

Tony sighs.  “You had a calc test today and I didn’t want this to get in your way!  May is already worried about you.”

That makes Peter even angrier, and he’s nearly jumping up and down as he responds to Mr. Stark.  School is a frequent topic of argument for him and May, and him and Tony; Tony doesn’t like the idea of Peter getting out of school to be an Avenger. “Schoolwork schmoolwork if you ask me. Come on!  Mr. Stark.  Mr. Stark, you _know_ how much I’ve been dying to go on a mission with you guys!  I wanna get back in the swing of things with you guys in case there’s a serious threat sometime!  This is the first full on Avengers mission since the civil war!  You should have invited me!” Peter instantly knows Tony is trying to be discreet about something because he can see the guilty look etch itself across Tony’s face.  “No!  No!  Have you guys gone on more missions than just this one?!”

“Just a few,” Tony mutters.  He’s not looking at the camera anymore.

“ _How many_?!” Peter demands.

“Uh, five,” Tony whispers.  

Peter’s eyes go wide.  “FIVE?!  You mean, I’ve been here at school bored out of my freaking mind while the team has been together kicking ass without me!  How come I haven’t heard of any?  There hasn’t been anything on the news yet!”

“They’re secret ops, Peter.  We haven’t done anything full scale since Ultron,” Tony admits.  “They’ve been pretty boring.  You wouldn’t have had much to do.  Besides, the state of New York needs you.  If it wasn’t for you, crime rates wouldn’t be down by 9% and that robot would have probably decimated downtown Queens if you hadn’t been there to stop it.”

That doesn’t make Peter feel any better. “Oh please.  Vision or Wanda or even you could have picked apart that robot in five seconds!  This isn’t fair, Mr. Stark!”

“Peter, this is just what’s best for you,” Tony says, his tone of voice softening slightly.

“No, this is what _you_ think is best for you, not necessarily what’s best for me,” Peter says.  “I’m an Avenger, too…”

He feels stupid just saying that out loud and he doesn’t mean to sound like a whiny teenager but he can’t help it.  He’s just so mad and upset at Tony for not inviting him along.  He’s been training and training and doing everything he can to prove he’s worthy of being an Avenger but no one gives him the chance.  That’s all Peter really wants.  A chance to get to fight with Mr. Stark and Thor and the Hulk.  He wants to race Wilson across a forest and see who gets to the other side the fastest while trying to outrun an enemy.  He wants Scarlet Witch to put up a huge force field around the two of them, protecting their fronts while Peter takes enemies out in the opposite direction.  He wants to pick up Captain America’s shield and throw it back to him.  He just wants a chance!

Tony sighs.  “Okay.  Okay, how about this Peter?  I’ll send Happy to your place tonight and you can come over to get a brand new suit.  I promise if there’s another Avengers mission, you can join us.  I’ll even call Aunt May so you don’t have to worry about that. But, you have to promise me to get as much homework done as you can!”

Peter scowls, but he knows this is the best offer he’s going to get so he grins, anyway.  “Okay!” He exclaims.

He and Tony end the call.  Peter’s still pretty jittery.  It may be a pity gift but he doesn’t care.  He’s gets to go to the Avengers Compound tonight and he can’t believe it! _You need to do schoolwork,_ Peter says to himself, especially since he knows May wouldn’t let him go if his homework isn’t done. Peter pulls out his computer science textbook and tries focusing on the small print.  No use.  All Peter can think about is tonight.   _Parker, you do your homework_ , he commands again.  He gets through a couple of questions.  When his mind starts drifting, he cranks out a few jumping jacks, runs in circles for a couple of seconds and scrambles back to his chair.  He goes at his homework again, a little bit more worn out. Surprisingly enough, Peter manages to finish up the worksheet for computer science class and finishes up with the first two chapters of _the Scarlet Letter_.  He closes the book when he hears his phone going off.

It’s a text from Aunt May.  << _I talked to Tony.  If you finish all of you homework, and I want measurable proof, then you go tonight_.   _I’ll be home in forty-five minutes_ >>.

It’s enough motivation for Peter.  He puts his English homework away and starts working on his American history homework. It’s pretty boring and Peter has to do a few more jumping jacks before he can focus again.  He finishes his homework just as he hears the door opening.  He rushes into the living room, barely able to hold all his papers as he bustles forward.  May is carrying in two overflowing paper bags worth of groceries and Peter lunges to grab them from her and set them on the kitchen counter.  “I got through my computer science homework, got a head start on _the Scarlet Letter_ and read and took notes on thirty boring pages worth of American history.”  Peter’s running to lay out his homework and to start putting away the groceries.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” May says, “Slow down, Peter.” She glances at the homework and then chuckles, “I’m surprised, kid. Maybe I should just hide your costume to get you to do your homework.”

“Okay, okay, first of all, it’s not a costume.  It’s a suit.  Just a technical difference,” Peter clarifies.  When May opens her mouth, Peter holds his hand up in surrender.  “And second of all, you’d feel pretty guilty if an old lady got hit by a car because Spider-Man wasn’t there to help her cross the streets.”

“You don’t need a suit to help someone out, Peter,” May corrects.  “Okay.  Okay.”  She stays quiet for a second and then she says, “I told Happy that he could pick you up in an hour.”

Peter’s grin stretches out across his face. “So I can go?!”

“Yes, you can go,” May says, smiling.

Peter thinks he could scale the side of his apartment, even without the suit, he’s so excited. “ _WOOHOO!”_ He yells.

“Peter, we have neighbors,” May hisses. She grabs hold of Peter’s arms to try and calm her squealing nephew.  Peter keeps laughing but he isn’t yelling like he did before.  “Are you packed for the weekend?” She speaks calmly now.

Peter shakes his head.  “No… not yet, at least,” he says through a yawn.

May notices the bags under Peter’s eyes and she sighs.  She turns the tea kettle on to brew Peter a cup of tea, and makes a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  The energy high is starting to fall and Peter keeps yawning.  May takes a pair of sweatpants and a blue v-neck from the unfolded, clean laundry bin and throws it to Peter to change.  Peter never really understands how May manages to keep up with all Peter’s energy and all the shit he puts her through, but he’s definitely not complaining.  When the groceries are put away and after Peter finishes his peanut butter and jelly, May brings Peter back into his room.  She tucks him into his bed and props him up with an array of pillows.  Peter points to what clothes and necessities he has to pack and May grabs them and puts them into his duffel bag without saying much.  His mind is still moving a million miles an hour as he thinks excitedly about what the weekend holds for him but he’s too tired to be jumping around.  He’s low energy even for Peter standards.

Then, the door bells rings and May and Peter are scrambling to get to the door. Happy Hogan is messing with his phone when they got the door.  He looks up. “Good.  You’re actually ready on time.  Hi May.  How you doing?”

“I’m good,” May says, a little uncomfortably. “You’ll call me when you get there?”  May says, turning to Peter.

Peter nods, giving her a convincing smile. “Love you, May.”

“Love you, Pete.”  

May presses a kiss on Peter’s forehead and Peter closes the door behind him, scrambling to follow Happy.  The sight of Happy Hogan, Tony Stark’s personal chauffeur/secretary/Tony’s-eyes-on-Peter, excites Peter more than it should.  His energy is back.  “So, do we have any missions for the weekend?  Do you think Vision will take me flying?  Oh, do you think Tony will let me try one of his suits?”

“No.  You scare Vision, even though he could blast you to pieces without blinking. And _absolutely not_ ,” Happy grumbles, answering all three of Peter’s questions without hesitation.  They make their way to the car and Happy reaches for the door.

“No, no,” Peter stops.  He opens the door for himself.  “I got it.” He finds it weird to have Happy treating Peter like Peter is his boss.  He slides into the back seat, grinning.  “What’s new, Happy?”  Happy just shrugs.  He turns up the volume on the radio, playing some really old song — Peter didn’t recognize any.  Peter tries again.  “Is Pepper still at the compound?  Hey, hey—,” Peter says, suddenly distracted, “Do you wanna stop at the grocery store?  Maybe we can get some ice cream?  Or — or…”

Happy rolls up the screen and Peter sighs. Peter doesn’t feel too dejected, though. Happy’s always pretty withdrawn, even after he acknowledges the fact that sometimes he should listen to Peter.  Peter looks out the window, watching as the familiar New York buildings zip by.  His legs are bouncing up and down and he’s drumming his fingers against the side of the car to pass the time.  When Happy finally pulls into the familiar winding road and Peter sees the massive glass building with the huge _A_ on the front, he’s ready to jump out of the car and yell party cries.  He gets this way every time he goes to visit the Avengers.  Peter beats Happy to the trunk and he grabs hold of his duffel bag, ignoring Happy’s outstretched hands.  He bounds up the hill to the front door.  The lights are on and Peter sees Natasha and Tony waiting by the front, watching Peter.

He grins and throws the door open.  “Mr. Stark!  Nat!”  He yells.  He comes to a skidding halt in front of two of the original six Avengers.  “It’s great to see you, guys.” He’s shaking Natasha Romanoff’s hand and keeps shaking it.

“Okay, okay, I think you’re about to shake her hand off,” Mr. Stark said.  “And how many times have I told you to call me Tony?”

“Right, right, right,” Peter stammers. They hear footsteps and heavy, staggered breathing.  Happy emerges, dragging up a briefcase.  “Whoa, my bad.  I should’ve offered to take the briefcase for you, Happy.”

Peter doesn’t mean to say anything offensive but Happy scowls.  Tony laughs, putting his arm around Peter and leading him into the main foyer. Peter loves the Avenger’s Compound, because the Avengers live here first of all, and also because it’s just _so open_.  Windows everywhere, letting in the natural light and giving Peter the chance to see miles of trees and to see the sunset.  These kinds of views you don’t get in Queens, so Peter can appreciate them more than the other Avengers.  Not to mention Tony also has all these cool looking gadgets everywhere in the building.  (The second time Peter’s ever visited the compound, all the old Avenger costumes were on display so Tony may or may not have walked in on Peter trying on Captain America’s old suit.  Bucky and Sam haven’t quite let Peter live that down).

“Where are we going?” Peter asks Tony.  They are walking down an empty hallway.

“To this,” Tony said.

He stops in front of a glass display case, inside of which is Peter’s new suit.  Just looking at it, Peter thinks he’s going to cry. It is beautiful.  Really. Probably more beautiful than all of Peter’s favorite foods sitting on the kitchen table after he gets home from a long mission.  Probably more beautiful than Liz Allan. He feels his heart beating rapidly, his cheeks flushing.  The legs and the under parts of the arms are black, and the rest is gleaming red.  A massive black spider is in the center, the legs of which are outstretched, going past the shoulders and probably down the back. Gold outlines the legs and the abdomen. The spandex on the feet is also gold.  Peter is pretty confident that he’s panting now. Probably drooling.

“I think I could cry,” Peter mutters.  “It — it’s — it’s…” Peter can’t even finish.  He looks at Tony and he can’t help himself. Peter doesn’t even think as he pulls Tony into a bear hug.

“Okay, I’m glad you’re happy,” Tony manages, “but you’re breaking my back.”

“Oh, sorry,” Peter says.  He lets go of Tony, who straightens out his suit. “This — this is totally awesome, Mr. Stark — Tony.  How — how long have you had this made?”

“I’ve been working on sketches ever since you joined the Avengers.  Do you like it kid?”  

“Do I like it?!  I think I wanna _marry it!”_ Peter says.  Tony laughs again.  “Can I try it on?”

“Of course,” Tony says.

He unlocks the glass display and opens it up for Peter to get a hold of it.  Peter scrambles to get the suit on, not even comprehending that Tony is still in the same room.  Peter is throwing off his clothes and fastening the suit on.  It feels great.  A million times better than the other suit. Whatever this suit is made out of doesn’t feel as hot or tight as the other one.  Peter takes a few steps across the floor.  It’s like he’s stepping on a trampoline; he can feel his feet bounding up and down with every movement.  Peter can’t control himself anymore.  He leaps up to the right side of the ceiling and is crawling around, until he’s upside down.  Tony is still looking at Peter, a half-amused, half-frustrated look on his face.  “You’re lucky the soles of that suit are clean,” Tony says, “otherwise you would be scrubbing the ceiling of the entire compound.”

“Sorry,” Peter says, sheepishly.  He drops down beside Tony.

“Oh look!  It’s the team mascot!”  Peter recognizes the voice: Sam Wilson is striding down the hall.  He’s not wearing his uniform anymore, and is now dressed in a pair of jeans, a white v-neck and a black jacket. He’s grinning this stupid grin.

“Says the _bird_ ,” Peter mutters.  He pulls off the mask and works his fingers through his hair to flatten it down and put it back into place. “When are you ever going to get over my kicking your ass at the airport?”

“We were a little distracted,” comes another voice and Bucky Barnes goes to Wilson’s side.  “I heard your high-pitched voice and I knew immediately I wasn’t interested in punching some ten-year-old in the face.”

“Yeah, we would’ve leveled you if we were going full out,” Sam said.

“Puh- _lease_ ,” Peter says.  Even though Sam and Bucky never say nice things to Peter, he really misses them.  “Where’s Wanda and Vision?  And Steve?  And Rhodes?”

“Rhodey is at Georgetown Medical for his legs,” Tony says.  “Steve is probably doodling.  And Wanda and Vision are probably flirting over some soup or something like that.  You wanna go try your suit out?”

“Boy do I!” Peter exclaims.

He’s racing past Tony and Bucky and Birdman.  He accidentally knocks Happy over, scrams to help Happy back onto his two feet and then he’s off. Another thing he loves about the Compound is how vast the land is.  Peter is sprinting down the field and then he flings his web forward.  The thin white webbing soars forward, latching onto a tree that Peter can barely see.  He picks up momentum and then he’s soaring again.  Wind is whipping across Peter’s face. He’s laughing again, and he feels like a monkey as he swings from tree to tree. Karen monitors where Peter is going to make sure that he stays on the Compound property.  She warns him when he starts reaching the border.  Quickly, he turns around and starts making his way back to the building.

However upset he feels about not getting to go on missions is gone.  Peter hasn’t felt this rejuvenated and happy in a while. Even though he’s exhausted, he feels _fantastic!_ He’s cheering and yelling without any major purpose. “I’M AN AVENGERRRRRR!” Peter screams at the top of lungs as he soars through the air.  He’s so excited that he doesn’t see the pigeon flying straight toward him.  He decides it’s time to get back to the compound after he falls nearly twenty feet to the ground when the pigeon takes him by surprise.  When he returns to the compound, Bucky and Sam doesn’t stop joking about the feathers lodged into Peter’s suit for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of these ideas came from little head-canons I found online. But I didn't come up with the idea of Peter falling off the hammock!


	2. A Weekend at (Fake) Dad's

Chapter Two: A Weekend at (Fake) Dad’s

Peter sleeps in a lot longer than he means to.  When he finally brings himself to wake up and look at the clock, he realizes it is 12:45 in the afternoon.  He rolls out of bed, feeling absolutely great now that he has gotten a full night’s worth of sleep.  He’s been needing that, a chance to just relax and not have to worry about school or Aunt May.  He glances at the mirror in his room, realizing he is still wearing the Iron-Spider suit.  A surge of excitement rushes through Peter.  Using his webbing, his flings the door shut and then flips over to look at himself in the mirror better. Peter knows his confidence has been getting better and better ever since he became Spider-Man. Being Peter Parker is starting to be easier for him too, and he knows he has to thank Tony a lot for that new found self-confidence.  He’s okay with being the guy under the suit but despite all that, Peter can't help be feel pretty good about himself when he looks in the mirror dressed in the new Spider-Man costume.  For lack of better words, Peter thinks he looks pretty hot.

“Okay, Parker,” he says.  He jumps up and down to help wake up his muscles.  “You’re a badass, you’re a badass, you’re a badass. You are not the team mascot.  You’re an Avenger, dude.”  It's not lame to start off your day with some pep talk, right?

“That is right Peter.  You are growing up to be a very handsome boy,” Karen adds. Peter knows Karen is just an AI but he always pictures her to be this young woman, probably no older than 30, with really fair skin and black hair.

Peter blushes.  “Karen, we’ve been over this,” he says.  “I’m not a boy.  I’m a man! I’m a man, I’m a man, I’m a man!  I’m more of a man than Captain America!”  He grins and flexes in the mirror.  “Those extra pull-ups in gym class have been worth it, isn’t it Karen?”  Peter looks at himself in the mirror for a little bit longer and grins.  “Oh, what is that, Mr. President?  Oh, a Medal of Honor?  For what?  For saving the world without any of the other Avengers’ help? Oh, that was nothing!  That was normal for me.  That was—” His spidey-senses start going crazy.  He turns around to hear the sound of laughter: Wanda Maximoff and Bucky Barnes are leaning against the door frame.  They are completely dressed, clearly just showered because their hair is still wet.

“Normal to save the world without our help?” Wanda laughs.  There is something light to her voice, and it makes Peter happy to hear her happy.

“I — I — I know that,” Peter stammers.  His face is flushed red.

Bucky laughs.  “We made you some food, Spider-boy.”  The two share one more laugh and then they walk out of Peter’s room.

“It’s Spider- _MAN!_ ” Peter yells after Bucky and Wanda.  He scowls.  He kicks off his Iron-Spider suit, hangs it up perfectly and goes back to kiss part of the mask. Peter rummages through his duffel bag until he finds his pair of most worn jeans and his chemistry shirt (the one that has an angry looking vial next to one saying _dude, I think you’re overreacting._ Peter laughs almost overtime he sees it).  May got it for him a couple years ago and Peter wears it every other week.  He runs a comb through his hair.  “You’re a man.  You shave.”

Peter takes a deep breath and then he pushes the door open.  He can already hear people shouting and laughing when he comes into the kitchen. The kitchen in the Avenger’s Compound is a lot nicer than the one at his apartment — not that that’s difficult.  It has dark cabinets and granite marble counters.  Perfect bowls of fruit. Well-stocked fridges.  Enough food that Peter can eat twice his bodyweight, which is why Peter liked it so much.  Steve and Tony are leaning against one of the counters, brewing themselves cups of coffee while the other Avengers — Vision, Sam, Wanda, Nat and Bucky — are perched around the conference table in their red swiveling chairs.  When Peter walks inside, the other Avengers look up.

“Parker, there’s a line of pigeons on the rooftop.  I think your one night stand from last night told their friends,” Sam says.

“Very funny,” Peter mutters.  He goes over to the kitchen counter where there is already a plate of eggs, bacon and bread sitting on the counter.  Tony pushes it toward Peter.  “Thanks.  This is a real treat! May’s always working so I normally just have cereal.”

“You aren’t at May’s right now,” Tony says, indifferent.  “Go take a seat.  You got a long day ahead of you.”

“I do?” Peter asks.  “Does that mean we have a mission today?!  Do I get to go on a mission?”

“No,” Tony says through a yawn.

“Why are you so tired?” Peter asks, absent-minded.

“Steve and I had a meeting with Thaddeus Ross this morning,” Tony explains. Thaddeus Ross is supposed to be holding a private press conference in front of the UN to discuss the Nigerian mission.  Out of all the Avengers, only Steve and Tony attends (it seems that they're the only two people allowed attend anyway).  Peter never got to meet Thaddeus Ross during the civil war, even though Peter considers himself to be an integral part in taking down Team Cap. Ross is in the news a lot, in charge of the Sokovian Accords that are still in place.  He works with the Avengers, so you would think Peter would’ve met him by now.  Peter would have liked to join the others adults but there's no room for him inside.  The other Avengers don't seem to upset about missing the super-secret meeting.  That confuses Peter.  They’re Avengers!  Everyone should be included!

Peter is thrown from his train of thoughts when he hears Sam and Bucky hooting with laughter.  He turns to look at them.  When Peter sees a video of Spider-Man flying through New York, he realizes what those two are laughing about.  It's a video from a while ago.  Peter groans because he's seen this video before and he knows it doesn't end well. It starts with Peter leaping from building to building.  He tries to be cool by doing a flip off the ledge of a building and propelling himself forward, but all he accomplishes is crashing onto the ledge of a balcony and then breaking a few trashcans below.  

Peter frowns.  “You know, I’m better at this kind of stuff now.” _You guys would know if you ever invited me on missions,_ Peter thought to himself silently.  

He goes to get himself a coffee cup but Tony stops him.  “No, no, no, you have too much energy as it is.”

“But I want something to drink,” Peter protests.

“Don’t worry.  I got you something,” Wilson says with false niceness.  He guides Peter toward a seat at the table and then gets something out of the fridge.  Wilson returns and sets a juice box in front of Peter.  “A juice box for the kid.  Heard you like green apple.”

Peter wouldn’t have been angry but green apple is his favorite so he drinks his apple juice in silence.  The Avengers go to sit at the conference table with Peter, and he is having a hard time keeping himself in his chair.  He’s sitting with the Avengers!  And they're talking about the previous mission, the one Tony didn’t invite Peter to, right in front of him! He tries not to geek out as Steve and Tony give Peter a rundown of the mission: it happens in Nigeria.  They are trying to catch some terrorist who is interested in exploding an entire embassy. You know, the usual terrorist sort of stuff. Tony and Steve are responsible for finding the King Pin, and the rest have to bottle up his goons. Sort of a lame name for someone who _is_ a kingpin. Anyway, they stay stealthy the entire way by using underground pipes and flying high above so that no one can see anything.  Few explosions here, the breaking of a massive building that Vision has to hold up ( _AWESOME)_ there and the Avengers come back with another successful mission under their belts.  Peter wishes he could come along, but there’s nothing he can do about that now.  

The rest of the weekend goes by fast.  Peter begs to do some training so they wait for him outside his room while Peter changes into his Iron-Spider suit.  He practically gallops behind Wanda and Sam as they take him to the training room.  It’s huge, like _gym size huge_ , with glass walls that shot up at least thirty feet up.  There is a balcony that looks down onto a matted floor, and takes Peter a couple of seconds to register that Steve and Nat are watching him from the balcony.

Peter turns to Sam.  “So, you back for more ass-kicking?” Peter calls.

Sam just laughs.  “You know, you and your big mouth have been pissing me since Germany and I think it’s time Team Cap puts you in your place.”

“Oh yeah?” Peter says.  “You might need those wings, old man!”

“I’m not fighting you.  No, no, man,” Sam says.  “She’s your sparring partner today.” Sam points to Wanda, who’s dressed in black leggings and a loose fitting shirt.  She has this bored expression on her face.

Peter’s eyes go wide and he takes a couple steps back.  “That’s not fair. She has magical powers!”

Sam chuckles.  “You best get used to having opponents who have powers you don’t have!”

Sam is already exiting the bottom floor of the training mat.  Peter turns to look at Wanda, who is circling him now.  She smiling and it wasn’t in a friendly way, either.  This just makes Peter more uncomfortable.  He doesn’t know how to react so he does what Peter does: talk nervously.  “Uh, how’s it going?” He says. He’s taking a couple steps backwards, trying to size up his new opponent. “Question, and I’m just curious, but you know how Cap says ‘gang, suit up’ all the time?  A lot of guys here are older and, well, _guys_.  Where do you and Nat change?  I’m sure you aren’t—”

Wanda’s fingers twitch, there’s a flash of red and then Peter is flying across the room.  He crashes into the window.  “What did I tell you about talking during a fight?”

Peter gets up, shaking his head.  “Sorry. Bad habit!”

Peter scales up the side of the building, kicking his hands and legs to propel himself forward.  Wanda’s eyes are glowing, but she hasn’t attacked him yet.  He seizes the opportunity.  Peter latches a web onto the side of the balcony and flings himself behind Wanda.  He curves around.  Then, he lands this pretty sick kick right to her back.  Wanda falls forward.  Peter is pretty excited, so he starts laughing.  Big mistake. A thin stream of red mist crashes against Peter’s chest.  It feels weird, like someone strong is pushing Peter backwards, even though there really isn’t anything touching him.  He hits the wall with a thud.  Peter quickly starts to realize how fortunate he is to always be on the same side as the Scarlet Witch.

The sparring goes on for a couple more hours.  Peter knows she isn’t going full out, but that doesn't stop her from knocking him on his backside plenty of times.  He also knows that because there isn’t anything she can levitate and throw at him, he is pretty lucky.  Peter gets comfortable with dodging the red magic, enough that he ends up pinning Wanda to the ground.  He’s only on top of her for a second before her hands are glowing red and Peter’s on his backside a second later.  Bucky gives Wanda a break after a while.  She goes to lean against the wall to watch the youngest Avenger and one of the oldest on the other hand fight it out. Peter is excited to do some actual hand to hand combat fighting.  The Winter Soldier is pretty good and that metal arm gives him a mean swing, too.  Peter leaves, sweaty and exhausted, eager to get out of the Iron-Spider suit, with plenty of new bruises.  He’s feeling good about himself, though.  He knows he handled himself pretty well against Wanda and Bucky, and he’s aware that Steve, Nat and Sam are watching him pretty closely.

“I’m think I proved myself, Karen,” Peter says as he looks in the mirror again.

“I think you did, too,” Karen adds.  Peter grins.

Peter is both relieved and sad to take off the Iron-Spider suit again.  He goes to take a shower in a bathroom that is twice the size of Peter’s bedroom at home.  When he is finished, Peter strips into his boxers, too hot and too tired to put on another shirt. He snuggles up against the pillow, and closes his eyes.  The constant workout today drains his muscles of energy so he collapses into bed and it’s lights out.  Peter isn’t surprised when he finds himself dreaming about fighting with the Avengers. It’s the same ol’ dream every night.  He hears the sound of a yelp, and Peter assumes there is a really hot girl needing help from a robot.  But it isn’t anything in dream.

The tingling in his head is back.  Peter’s out of his bed in a matter of seconds, pulling on another shirt and then sweatpants.  He hears another whimper.  Peter pulls the door open, looking around to see what is going on.  He doesn’t know what to expect. He secretly hopes that it is some kind of enemy invasion and Spider-Man has to go save the day.  Flashes of light are coming from the down the hall, from Bucky’s room. Peter is a little panicked now.  He can’t be sure if there’s even a threat, but Peter is completely confident that _something_ wrong is happening.  Tip-toeing lightly, Peter goes to the end of the hallway and peers in the doorway.  He stops short when he sees what's happening.  Bucky is writhing in his bed, eyes shut tightly and his metal fingers wrapped tightly in a ball.  Steve is beside Bucky, looking at his friend, terrified and Wanda is there as well. Only… Peter doesn’t quite know what’s going on.  Red mist is escaping from her fingers, delving into Bucky’s mind.  

“What’s going on?” Peter whispers.

“Nightmare…” Steve says back.  The red mist stops, leaving the four of them in complete darkness.  Bucky shudders, but at least his face isn’t twisted in pain anymore. Peter still doesn’t understand what he just saw but Steve is not taking the time to explain.  He looks at Wanda, who’s eyes look weary and exhausted.  “Are you okay, Wanda?”

“It’s the same nightmare as the one before,” she whispers.  The laughter in her voice from this afternoon is gone, replaced with despair.  “He’s the Winter Soldier, the one Hydra created.  It’s the woman he killed…”  Tears fill Wanda’s eyes but before Steve or Peter could say something, she stands up.  “I’m going to get some sleep.”

“Come on, Peter,” Steve commands.

Peter follows the two others out of Bucky’s room.  They go to Wanda's room first. Peter stands outside of Wanda’s room and feels intrusive as he watches Steve tuck Wanda in and kiss her forehead.  His head is spinning with what just happens.  Normally, Bucky is pretty easy-going, at least that's how he acts whenever Peter is around.  He has never seen any of the Avengers so upset before.  When Steve returns, his face is very serious.  He doesn't speak for a very long time.  He just leads Peter to the living room where the two perch themselves on the couches.  

“What just happened?” Peter asks, tentatively.

“Bad dream.  Don’t you get those?” Steve asks.  He leans against the side of the couch.  

“Yeah, when I was a kid, and I don’t think I ever looked that messed up afterwards,” Peter says.  The minute those words come out of his mouth, he feels a little guilty.  He knows that wasn’t some kid-nightmare about getting lost or about some evil monster being his bed.  Bucky's dream is about _killing someone_.  Peter tries again. “What was Wanda doing to him?”

“She was trying to manipulate his dream,” Steve says with a sigh.  “She does it with all of us, you know.  That’s why we leave the door open.  The only thing is, whenever she’s messing with someone’s mind, she also sees what is going on.  While we get to reap the benefits of having someone stop nightmares for us, she has to suffer and live them instead.”

“Jeez,” is all Peter can manage.

That isn’t even half of what Peter feels like. He always thinks about the glory that all of these men and women living in the Avengers Compound gets.  Being a hero is probably one of the greatest achievements Peter can think of.  The desire for a mission is something that Peter has always had. He never stops to think about what happens _after_ a mission.  Even after what happens with Vulture, Peter isn’t haunted with the nightmares that much.  It was bad at first but he’s gotten past it.  The Vulture doesn't scare him as much.  Peter only feels pretty bad about what happened because Liz isn’t living in New York anymore.  It’s starting to hit Peter how _exhausting_ it must be for the Avengers to be _them._

“What if she has a nightmare?” Peter asks.

“We just go to her room and…” Steve stops. “What Wanda does for us isn’t a two-way street.  We stay in her room until the nightmare passes, wake her up if gets bad but that’s all we can do.”  Peter can tell whatever Steve is feeling isn’t good.  “Let’s go back to bed,” Steve says suddenly. “Tony will be pissed if you don’t get enough sleep tonight.”

Steve and Peter walk to their respective rooms together. _What did I just see?_ Peter thinks to himself as he crawls into bed. Bucky’s face, wrenched with pain, fills his face.  Is this what it is really like to be an Avenger?  Nightmares and panic attacks and pain?  Peter feels like a kid for not picking up on this sooner.   _Of course this is what it is like to be an Avenger_.  All these people have just gotten good at hiding their issues, at masking them. They’re heroes. And being a hero means putting other people’s problems first.  Peter didn’t realize that meant putting _their pain_ last…

He falls asleep with that thought in mind.

* * *

The following morning, the aftermath of Bucky’s nightmare spreads across the other Avengers.  Peter gets up at 9:30, which is still pretty late.  He expects that everyone is going to be up but when he goes into the kitchen, he realizes that Bucky is still asleep.  No one looks too interested in waking him up, and Peter understands why; everyone needs a good night sleep and Peter doubts that Bucky got that last night. Steve looks pretty bleak as he glance at his coffee, the newspaper untouched beside him. Natasha, Sam and Tony are whispering in the corner of the kitchen.  Their eyebrows are furrowed and they look _very_ unhappy.  Peter’s eyes flicker to Wanda. She is curled up in the chair, hands wrapped around a green ceramic cup; a plate of untouched food sits in front of her. Her eyes are blank, the bags under her eyes potent and dark, like she didn’t sleep at all last night.  Vision is sitting away from everyone else, fingers pressed against his temples.  Peter sometimes wonders what it’s like to be Vision — to be the only person who isn’t human on the team.  Vision doesn’t dream, at least that’s what he told Peter, which means that he doesn’t have nightmares.  Peter can see the confusion etched on Vision’s face.  He won't ever understand why it was so painful for Bucky to have that nightmare.  

“Hey kid.  How did you sleep?” Tony asks when Peter walks inside.  The others give Peter fake smiles, all except for Wanda, who continues to stare dejectedly in the distance.

Peter shrugs.  “Alright,” he lies.  

Peter is pretty sure that everyone can see through his lie but Tony chooses not to say anything about it.  “We have breakfast ready,” Tony says finally.  

He pushes a plate of blueberry pancakes, freshly made and still warm, in front of Peter.  He takes it awkwardly and joins the others at the kitchen table.  Peter looks over at Wanda.  All fragments of emotions have evaporated from her face, and Peter starts stuffing down his breakfast to keep himself distracted.  He feels out of place right now, exactly how he felt when he tried to picture himself going to the homecoming dance with Liz Allan last year (it didn't help that that dance turned out pretty bad).  He wants to say something to Wanda and to Steve, who looks like he’s having a secret war in his head about who knows what. But there isn’t anything Peter can do to make his new friends feel better.  Wanda gets up, dumps the tea she didn’t drink into the sink and then rushes down the hall.  

The crowd around the table evaporates quickly, and soon all that is left is Tony and Peter.  Tony comes to sit next to Peter. “Can I have coffee now?” Peter tries.

Tony just shakes his head, laughing almost. “You’re sixteen.  You’re too young to be addicted to coffee,” Tony scolds.  He puts his hand on Peter’s shoulder, something very heavy weighing on Tony’s face.  Peter thinks about asking but he misses his chance.  “I never really asked you about what happened with that robot.  I want the full story,” Tony commands.  

Peter knows that once Tony requests something, Peter has to give in; he can’t just ignore a request from his idol.  Peter gives a play-by-play to Tony about what happened.  He recalls the vast, empty telescope that makes up the eye of the robot.  He goes into detail about the stench from that liquid that contaminates and ruins his suit.  He sighs in disappointment as he remembers the suit malfunctioning and how it feels like he is leaving his first child when he has to abandon his suit.  Tony smiles weakly.  He presses a hand on Peter more comfortingly and says, “At least you got the new suit.  It sounds like a pretty awesome fight, if you ask me.  I’m,” Tony twitches his neck a little and then says, “I’m _proud_ of you, Peter.”

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter says.  He feels that rush of happiness fill him again.  “It _was_ a pretty awesome fight, I’ll admit, and I got to take it down solo!  Oh!”  Peter exclaims, “And there was this little symbol on the robot. It was — it was — it was…” Peter pulls his cell phone from his pocket and shows the picture to Tony, the symbol of the horse and pendulum.  “It looks familiar but I don’t know from what.”

Tony glances at it.  “Send this me.  I’ll get FRIDAY working on it.”

“Really?!  You mean, you’ll actually help me with this thing?!” Peter exclaims.

Tony smiles.  “Of course I’m going to do that.  In the meantime, May called and she said that you’ve been staying up pretty late.”

Peter groans.  He pulls away from Tony, frustrated.  People at the Avenger’s Compound are falling apart from nightmares and probably a lot of things, something Peter never really thought about until today, and here Tony is, the leader of the Avengers, freaking out about how much sleep Peter gets on a regular basis.  It frustrates Peter to no end.  And it fills him with guilt, too.  “Don’t worry about me, Tony.  My teachers just need to stop assigning so much homework.”

“Right, because that’s the problem,” Tony replies.

“God, you’re just as bad as Aunt May!” Peter says.  He gets up.  “I’m not a kid, Tony, and I’m sure you’ve gone on less sleep.”

Tony frowns.  “I’m just worried about you, Peter.  Not so much because I don’t think you can handle yourself and you’re going to get yourself killed trying to fight a freaking robot.  No.  It’s more about the fact that you seem like the kind of reckless kid that's going to be goofing around, trying to show off, and you actually drop yourself in the middle of traffic and get run over by a truck.”  Peter stays silent as first, especially because he starts to realize that Tony’s assumption isn’t that far off.  Peter slumps into his seat a little bit further.  He feels Tony’s arm wrap around Peter awkwardly. It is a sort of one-armed, really weird hug. “How about this?  I’ll look into this symbol if you promise to do a better job at focusing on _being Peter_.”

Peter doesn’t like giving into Tony’s request that quickly, but he also knows if he wants to get to the bottom of this robot (not that he has a much time to think about the robot since the attack) he is going to need Tony’s help.  He nods.  “Yeah.  Okay.  But I’m telling you, some of my best work and studying is done at two in the morning.”

“If you don’t improve your study habits, you’ll die in college,” Tony says.

Peter spends the rest of the day with Tony, getting the chance to see some of his latest designs on the other's suits.  Wanda and Cap were the latest to get new costumes, so right now Tony is working on building new tech for Sam and Bucky.  New wings and a new arm.  Peter is absolutely thrilled when Tony asks him to help design some of the wings and even build them.  When it's time for Peter to go back home, he packs dejectedly.  Happy helps carry Peter’s bag to the car while Peter says goodbye to the rest of the Avengers.  Most just give Peter a handshake.  Sam makes a few cracks, punches Peter in the arm and then sends Peter over to Wanda.  She gives Peter a small, gentle hug; she has a little bit more of her perky, happy smile back since this morning, and that's promising to see. Vision, who is standing right behind Wanda, thinks hugging the appropriate way to say goodbye and locks Peter into a tight embrace.  Peter doesn’t know how to react, so he hugs Vision back.  Tony walks Peter out to the car, carrying a briefcase that contains Peter’s new suit.  Tony puts the briefcase into the trunk before turning to his young protegee.

“You’ll go to bed at a reasonable time tonight, right?” Tony asks.

Peter groans.   _This is getting old_.  He knows Tony is just looking out for him, so Peter puts on a smile.  “Okay, okay.  Yes, I promise.  I will go to by at least 11:00.”

Tony frowns.  “10:30.  And no caffeine tomorrow!”

“Yes, okay, I promise,” Peter says.  Tony opens the door for Peter, and Peter gets inside.  “What’s up, Happy?  How was your weekend?”

“Long,” Happy mutters.  “You ready to go home?”

Peter shrugs.  He’s never ready to leave the Avengers Compound, but he has no choice. He nods.  "Ready as I'll ever be."

* * *

The next day at school, Peter can barely control Ned after Peter shows his best friend the photo of the Iron-Spider suit.  So, despite promising that he go to bed at a reasonable hour when Peter gets home Sunday night, he may or may not have snuck out to go flying in his suit.  Right now, Peter is showing Ned the photos he took last night.  But Peter kind of regrets showing Ned, who is practically shouting across the hallway, giddy.  Peter cringes, nearly burying his head into his locker. When a few senior girls glance at Peter and Ned, he gives them an awkward.  “He got an A on his test…” Peter says, blindly coming up with excuses.  The girls just rolled their eyes and kept walking.  “Dude, _dude_ , be cool!  Let’s try not to attract the attention of the entire school!”

“Right, sorry,” Ned says, sheepishly.  He leans in closer to Peter and says, “that is the _coolest_ freaking thing I’ve ever seen!”

Peter grins.  He can’t help it.  “Yeah, I know.  It’s pretty awesome!" Peter pulls his backpack open a little.  "I have it in my backpack.  I thought I might do some ass-kicking right after school."

“You mean _after_ Decathlon practice tonight, right?” Ned says.

Peter’s eyes go wide.  He completely forgot. The one thing that makes staying on the Decathlon team so difficult is that the practice schedule is pretty sporadic. Michelle sometimes cancels practice without telling us and other times she hosts random practices with giving them only a couple of days in advance.  The thought of skipping practice is enticing to Peter, but he also knows he can’t afford to miss this one considering he skipped the last two practices for Spider-Man/alter ego stuff. Peter sighs.  “Right, yeah, after Decathlon practice I guess.”  

Peter feels pretty dejected, but there isn’t a lot he could do.  He trudges to his Spanish class, sulking.  His day becomes even worse when he realizes there is a test today and he knows he didn’t study this weekend. The test is on verb conjugations and grammar.  Honestly, even if the test was in English, Peter probably would have failed it anyway.  He gives up on trying to guess his way through the sentences.  He turns the test in with absolutely no desire to see it graded.  When he gets back to his seat, Peter pulls out his phone.  It’s a text from Tony.  It reads << _Just got a call from Aunt May.  Good job getting to sleep at the right time :)_ >>  That makes Peter feel a little guilty but also a little happy since he knows he tricked Aunt May successfully last night. There’s another text from Tony underneath: << _FRIDAY has been checking on your symbol.  So far nothing. I’ll get back to you when we have more information_ >>.

<< _Thanks Mr. Stark.  I love the suit!! >> _Peter says.  What he doesn’t say is that he loves the fact that Tony used an emoji more.

He puts his phone away and lets himself think about the robot.  Peter’s head is filling with questions as he ponders what the robot was doing attacking Peter and who created the robot.  And what does that symbol mean?  Peter sends the rest of Spanish class daydreaming about heroically sweeping in, saving Queens from the robot, and taking down the bad guy behind the attack.

“Mr. Parker, are you still with us?” Peter looks up to see the Spanish teacher glaring down at him.  He glances at the clock.  School was out two minutes ago.

“Oh shit — shoot, uh, sorry,” Peter says, mid-shoving his textbooks into his backpack and racing out the door.  Ned is already waiting beside him.  Peter turns to his friend, a little unhappy.  “Man, why didn’t you tell me we had a Spanish test today?”

“Oh right… my bad,” Ned says, sheepishly. The two friends start making their way through the winding halls when Ned stops them.  He puts his arm in front of Peter and looks at him very seriously.  “ _Wait!_ Go try the suit on.  I wanna see Spider-Man looks like in the new suit!”

Peter hesitates, and then shrugs.  “Yeah, why not?  We got plenty of time before practice.”

Peter and Ned rush into the bathroom where Peter goes into the stall and starts tearing his clothes off.  He hasn’t had to change in such a small space in a while so he accidentally kicks the wall of the bathroom.  The hinges shake violently. Peter cringes and freezes until he is confident that the stall isn’t going to collapse.  Quickly, he starts peeling off his layers of clothes.  He pulls the Iron-Spider suit out of his backpack, heart racing with anticipation.  Peter pulls it on and secures it.  He slips the mask on.  Yeah, it’s pretty risky to go out into his school wearing his suit but he has his mask on.   _The people of Midtown School deserve a little surprise from Spider-Man_ , he thinks to himself confidently and steps out in the bathroom.

Ned is pacing back and forth in the bathroom.  When he sees Peter in the new suit, Ned starts wheezing practically. “Dude…”  He talks a closer look at Peter. “Dude!  _This is so cool!”_

“I know,” Peter gushes.  “Isn’t this sweet? Hey, look at this!”  Peter gets a running jump, bounces off the edge of the sink and then launches himself onto the side of the bathroom.  Peter takes a deep breath.  He carefully lets his hands off of the side of the bathroom and then Peter walks across the top of the bathroom.  Ned stares at Peter in complete shock: Peter’s feet are practically glued to the ceiling and he’s hanging upside.

“Oh, oh, can I try on the mask at least?” Ned begs.

Peter sighs.  He detaches himself from the ceiling, flips onto the ground and lands in a beautiful superhero poise.  Peter takes the mask off and hands it to Ned.  “Whoaaa!” Ned exclaims.  He looks at himself in the mirror, and Peter can’t help but smile.  “Can I take some selfies?”

“Eh, why not?  But no posting it!” Peter says.  The two stand in front the mirror, snapping pictures and laughing.  Peter takes the mask back and takes a few more photos and then… Peter’s overly sensitive ears pick up footsteps faster than his mind can register what’s happening.  “Oh shit!” Peter exclaims.  He hurls himself into the bathroom stall with his backpack. Peter is scrambling to grab hold of his clothes. “Shit, shit, shit!”

“Peter, you sound like in your trouble. Would you like to activate panic mode?” Karen asks.

“Yeah, yeah, I am in trouble!  That’s why I’m panicking!” Peter yells.

“Activating panic mode,” Karen yells.

Peter has no idea what that means, but he isn’t really concerned about whatever Karen is about to do to the suit.  Peter pulls his mask off, stuffs it into his backpack and in the same instant is tearing his clothes out of his bag.  He only has time to throw on his shirt and pull his jeans and shoes back on before he hears the door opening.  Peter stumbles out of the stall.  Perhaps the last person Peter wanted to see is standing in the bathroom. Flash Thompson, dark-skinned and scowling, is leaning against a sink, looking back and forth from Peter to Ned in disbelief.  “What are you two doing in here?”

“We were — uh…” Ned turns to look at Peter.

Peter’s mind is racing.  “Uh, we were going to the bathroom.  What does it look we’re doing in the bathroom?”

Flash narrows his eyes.  “Ugh, whatever, Penis Parker.  I don’t care what gay stuff you and your friend are doing.  Come on. Betty is about to blow a fuse because you two aren’t there.”

Peter takes a couple of seconds to slow his heart rate down before he follows Flash and Ned into the gymnasium where they typically hold their practices.  Michelle Jones — MJ, as she prefers to be called — is sprawled across the bleachers.  She normally prefers to read but she’s doodling right now, glancing up at two other members of the Decathlon as she draws: Betty Brant and Gwen Stacy.  They’re both pacing around the floor, glancing through the local newspaper (Peter tries to hold back a grin as he sees a picture of Spider-Man on the front).  But that grin fades when he feels suddenly very hot in the Spider-Man suit under his clothes.   _What if someone sees me?_ He thinks to himself. Besides Ned, the only person Peter thinks is observant enough to see straight through his clothes is MJ, but she hasn’t even acknowledged Peter and Ned walking inside.  

Mr. Harrington sees Peter and Ned and jumps up.  “Good, you guys are here! Peter, I was beginning to think—”

“That he quit again?” MJ offers.  She gets up from the bleachers and goes to the stand by the podium.  “Yeah, yeah, whatever.  Let’s get through this quickly.  I have plans tonight.”

“Plans tonight?  Joining a cult?” Flash jokes.

“There's a documentary on Malcolm X tonight, and I want to see it,” Michelle clarifies.  She orders Peter and the rest of the Decathlon team to take their seats.  As Peter takes his seat, he makes a huge fuss about messing with the collar of his jacket, absolutely terrified that it’ll slide down just a little and everyone will see the Iron-Spider suit.  MJ picks up the first flashcard and reads the question, “Who introduced the theory of punctuated equilibrium?”

“Easy!” Flash yells.  “Gould and Lerner!”

MJ gives Flash a look and then says, “Wrong.  Anyone else?”

“Gould and Eldredge.” Peter says without thinking.  It’s obvious.  He learned this in honors biology class he and Flash took together their freshman year.  “You weren’t completely wrong, though, Flash.  Lerner just inspired their work.”

Flash scowls.  “Whatever, _Parker_ ,” he hisses.

MJ interrupts the banter with another question. “Which kind of mutation does _not_ usually change the length of the chromosome?”

“Inversion!” Betty Brant squeals.

The questioning goes on for another forty-five minutes.  Peter doesn’t feel as on edge as he did before.  He’s been able to just sit, not really fidgeting too much with his clothes, and no one has seen or pointed out  that weird spandexy material hiding under Peter’s clothes.  This gives him new found confidence that no one is going to notice now.  On top of that, it makes him feel better that he has been getting more answers correct than Flash.  Peter can tell that Flash is getting angrier and angrier, especially since Flash is only an alternate because Peter is on the team.

MJ eventually gets bored of asking questions and once everyone looks like they need a mental nap, she calls it a day.  “We have our first tournament next Saturday,” MJ says.  “Apparently we aren’t practicing enough”  —she shoots Mr. Harrington a dirty look—, “so we’re going to be practicing Monday, Wednesday and Friday next week for an hour and half.  Don’t suck and skip out.”  Now MJ is looking at Peter.

“I’ll try, gosh,” Peter says.  “I’ve just busy the last couple of days.”

“With what?  You quit everything and I thought you quit the Stark Internship,” Betty Brant points out.

“No, no, I’m still doing the Stark Internship. There was some communication errors last year so I quit for a little bit,” Peter explains. His face is getting red again.  The suit feels like it’s gripping his neck tightly, painfully. “I’m  — I’m still doing the Stark Internship.”

“Why are you always running off, Peter?” Flash adds.  “Got a secret girlfriend you’re always going to?”  Flash can’t help but laugh at that, and then he adds, “Or let me guess: you’re beating up one of the guys that’s trying to get with your super hot Aunt.  You know, I’ll be 18, soon—”

Peter scowls.  He stands up.  So what if he’s Spider-Man?  He just won’t hit Flash as hard as he would hit an actual enemy. Peter knocks the chair over, leaping forward to get into Flash’s face and then, the door to the gymnasium is pushed open. No.  Not pushed open.  Blasted open.  To Peter’s horror, red swirls fill the gymnasium as a young woman steps into view.  Wanda Maximoff, dressed in that sick new suit, her hair whipping around her face, steps into view.

Peter gasps, “ _Shit!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the response on the first chapter
> 
> This one isn't as long, but I hope you guys liked it


	3. We're Just Trying to Have a Nice Dinner

Chapter 3: We’re Just Trying to Have a Nice Dinner

At first, Peter closes his eyes, hoping that when he opens them, Wanda won’t really be standing in the middle of Midtown’s gym, and this would be just one big nightmare. He drops his backpack in shock when he realizes he isn't dreaming any of this up. Around him, the other Decathlon students have a very similar reaction: Flash, who had this stupid smirk on his face, is gaping at Wanda now; and Betty Brant and Gwen Stacy look like they're going to start screaming bloody murder any time now (Peter really hopes that doesn’t happen because he’s standing way too close for comfort); Michelle is just staring, not shocked but just a little confused.  Ned, however, is grinning like he just won the lottery.  

Still recovering from the D.C. attack, Mr. Harrington stares at Wanda, unsurely. Then, he collects himself quickly.  “Can we help you… Scarlet Witch?” Mr. Harrington says.  He takes a small step forward.

Peter is having a pretty hard time paying attention to what everyone else is saying. He can feel himself start to panic as he tries to come up with a viable excuse as to why an Avenger is standing in front of him. Hell, Peter doesn’t even know what an Avenger is doing in front of him. Apparently, Wanda is feeling the same way. She turns to look at Peter for just a second before anybody can think too much of it. “Uhhhh,” is all that comes out of her mouth.  She bites down on her bottom lip. “Um, it’s… I got lost,” she says and gives everyone a sheepish look.  “I was trying to find my way to the nearest… grocery store…” Peter groans.  He starts tapping his foot up and down impatiently, especially because he can see that no one is buying her excuse.

“Why would you stop to ask a bunch of teenagers for directions?” Betty asks. “Wouldn’t Tony Stark give you a cell phone or something?”

“Maybe she doesn’t put materialistic value onto things like cell phones,” Michelle says.

“Wait, are you on a mission right now?!” Flash asks.  “Is there something in the school?  Do you want help?”

Wanda scowls.  Her face gets suddenly hard, and it looks as though she is sizing Flash up right now.  “I would tell you but that’s _private_ Avengers business,” she says. In the same instant, she holds her hands up, small red marbles twirling around her fingers.  As his friends back away slightly, Peter tries to keep himself from groaning. When Wanda’s point is effectively made, she puts on this fake smile. “Looks like there’s nothing wrong here.  So I will just be on my way.  You!” She yells, pointing to Peter.  

Peter’s eyes goes wide as he feels everyone turn to stare at him.  “Uh, me?” He asks. The Iron-Spider suit feels uncomfortably tight right now. “Why — why me?”

“You were a Stark intern, right?” Wanda asks.  

“Uh, yeah,” Peter muttered.

“Good. I, uh, I’ll need directions to the Stark Tower,” Wanda says.

“I thought they moved out of there,” Betty says.

Wanda scowls.  “Obviously, he left something dangerous there.”  She stares at Peter again and then says, “Come on.  Let’s go.  I’m on a time crunch.”

“Uh, okay,” Peter says.

He glances at Ned, who is still wide-eyed and in shock.  As Peter grabs for his backpack, Mr. Harrington makes a move toward Wanda, but she glares at him like he’s an enemy so Mr. Harrington doesn’t say anything to protest when Peter follows Wanda out the hall.  She moves quickly, snaking her way through the hallway and not saying a single word to Peter.  Most of the school is deserted, so Peter isn’t that worried about anyone seeing him, but he has no idea how he is going to explain this to the Decathlon team.  At least Peter has that going for him.  Last year when Ned yelled that Peter knew Spider-Man, it created a lot of problems for Peter.  Walking out of a practice with an Avenger escort is only going to make matters worse.

When they walk outside, Wanda turns to stare at Peter.  She folds her arms together and Peter can see the anger building up in her eyes.  “So, uh, what the hell are you doing here?” Peter demands.

“Ugh, what the hell _am I_ doing here?  You called me, remember?” She says, as though it’s obvious.

Peter blinks a couple of times in confusion. “I — I never called you.  I… did Ned call you?”  That’s the only explanation Peter can think of.  Even then, that doesn’t make a lot of sense.  Ned is more excited about the whole Avenger thing than even Peter, but Ned isn’t stupid.  He wouldn’t risk blowing Peter’s cover this way.

“You activated panic mode, Peter,” Wanda says.

That just makes Peter’s head spin further. “I did?”  Then it clicks in his mind.   _He did!_  When he was panicking trying to get dressed in his clothes, Karen was saying something about panic mode and Peter was too busy worrying about everything else that he can’t even remember what he said in response.  “What does panic mode do?”

“It sends the closest Avenger your coordinates,” Wanda explains.  Her eyes are narrowing in on Peter.  “And I happened to be the closest… So where’s the trouble?”

“Uh, there’s no trouble,” Peter says. Confusion spreads itself across Wanda’s face, and a twinge of guilt runs up Peter’s back.  “Ned and I were just screwing around and…”

“ _Seriously?!”_ Wanda snaps.  The volume of her voice raises a few more notches. “ _There’s no threat?!_ What were you doing activating panic mode?”

“It was an accident,” Peter says.  He quickly explains to Wanda what happened in the bathroom.  As he keeps explaining what happened, Wanda becomes increasingly angrier and angrier until her lips are in a straight, firm line.  “Uh, so long story short, I’m really sorry about that and, uh, now that I know what it does, I won’t do it again.”  He flashes an awkward smile and hopes that it's enough for Wanda to forgive him.  That was a mistake.  Even though Peter is several inches taller than her, Wanda still glares at him in such a way that makes Peter shrink away from her.  “Sorry if I wasted your time I guess.”

She sighs.  “At least you’re not hurt,” she says.

The tension in Wanda’s arms and shoulders are gone.  And then, her lips pull back into a massive smile.  “Wait a second, if there’s no threat, why are you still wearing the suit?” Peter scowls as she starts shaking with laughter.

“So what were you doing out here, anyway?” Peter asks.

“I was on my way back from the grocery store when I got the call,” Wanda admits. “And thanks for dragging me away from that by the way!  I left an entire cart-full of groceries just sitting in the—” She stops as she points toward the empty firelane in front of the school.  “My car was parked right there!  Where did it go?”

Peter rubs his head awkwardly.  “You parked in a firelane.”

“So?” Wanda says.

“Wanda, they towed your car.  Jesus, how long were you parked out here?” Peter asks, laughing.

She turns to glare at Peter before taking out her cell phone, dialing a number and then putting the receiver to her ear.  “Hey, Nat.  No, no, _he’s fine_ ,” Wanda says, shooting Peter an angry glare.  “Yeah, it was a false alarm.  Anyway, my car got towed because—…” Natasha says something back to Wanda, and she scowls.  “Yes, I know, I know you told me to pay attention to where I’m parking!  It wasn’t like this was supposed to be an emergency or anything.  What time can you pick me up?” Wanda sighs at the answer.  “Okay, see you then.”

Wanda has to wait for two hours until Natasha can pick her up. Feeling partially to blame for her being stranded in Queens, Peter invites her to his apartment.  He goes back to change in the school, very careful that no one can bombard him with questions after being brought outside by the Scarlet Witch.  He gets out of his Iron-Spider suit and as he does, he starts to let himself think about what just happened.  In his old suit, Tony implemented a lot of parental controls to keep Peter from achieving his full potential (yeah, yeah, enough about protection!).  Tracking devices and training mode and everything else beside, Tony never put anything like the panic mode button into his suit.  Must have been because Tony wanted Peter to have a backup plan in case something went wrong on an Avengers mission.  But Peter was never invited on an Avenger mission… Tony made sure of that.  Peter starts to feel angry now.  Why can’t Tony just stop treating him like he’s a kid all the time? Peter has protected his ass plenty of times on his own.  There was no need for… He didn’t need another Avenger protecting his ass.

Scowling, Peter shoves his Iron-Spider suit into the depths of his backpack and goes to join Wanda, who is waiting for him outside. The stares on the metro is pretty embarrassing and Wanda tries to keep her head down from the prying eyes of the other New Yorkers.  Peter doesn’t stand next to her.  Already worried about what the other students at Midtown think, they agree that it’s best if Peter does little to associate himself with the Avenger that sticks out like a sore thumb in public transportation.  It’s worse when they get to Peter’s apartment.  Wanda flies to the back of the apartment where Peter has to let her in through the roof.

Peter is hoping that Aunt May isn’t there but, to his dismay, he walks inside tofind her purse resting on the kitchen counter, the TV playing and Aunt May rummaging through the kitchen.  “Peter, I thought Decathlon practice wasn’t supposed to be over for another—.”  She stops dead in her tracks when she sees Wanda standing in the kitchen, awkwardly.  May puts her glasses onto her forehead.  “Uh, who is this?” May asks.

“May, this is Wanda Maximoff,” Peter says.  “AKA the—”

“Scarlet Witch,” May says.  “I was kind of hoping you were just her doppelganger.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Wanda says.  She smiles and the two women share an uncomfortable exchange of pleasantries. “It’s kind of a long story,” she says before Aunt May or Peter can say anything else. “My car got towed and this was the closest place for me to go to.  Peter was just nice enough to let me stay here until someone can pick me up.”

May smiles.  “Of course you can stay here,” she says.  “Make yourself at home.  In the meantime, Peter, let’s have a talk in the living room.  Yes?”

Peter grumbles.  “Yeah, yeah, okay.” Wanda turns his back to get a glass of water and Peter staggers out of the kitchen and into the living room with Aunt May. She turns off the TV.  “So, May, what’s—”

“Peter, what is going on?” She asks, very seriously.  

“May, it actually is just a long story,” Peter says.  “There’s this thing in the new suit that calls the nearest Avenger in case I’m in trouble.”

“In trouble?!” May gasps.  This catches Wanda’s attention and she turns to look at them.

“No, no, I wasn’t actually in trouble.  I was just — Ned and I were just messing around a little bit in the suit.  And Flash came in.  I was panicking because I didn’t want him to find out about me.  And then, long story short, she thought I was in trouble and so—,” Peter says.

May holds up her arms.  “Okay, okay, okay,” she interrupts.  “I don’t — I don’t wanna know.”  She turns to look at Wanda.  “Will you be staying for dinner?”

“Uh,” Wanda says.  She glances at the clock and then says, “um, I don’t know…”

“Her ride is going to be here in a couple hours,” Peter says.

“That’ll give us just enough time to go out for Thai food, if you’re interested,” May says.

 _Yeah, because that won’t draw attention to us_ , Peter thinks to himself but he doesn’t argue.  He’s just a little surprised that he didn’t get in as much as trouble as he expected.  Under May’s watchful eyes, Peter sets up his homework on the kitchen table. He has a pretty hard time focusing on it with an Avenger sitting in front of him, still dressed in her uniform.  There isn’t much for her to do so she entertains herself with skimming through some of Peter’s textbooks that he has out.  She is going through Peter’s chemistry textbook when she gets bored and sets it aside.  “How can you read that stuff?” She asks.  Her smile is back, which makes Peter happy.  At least she isn’t angry with him anymore.

“It’s called school,” Peter says.  “Didn’t you ever go through this?”

Wanda just shrugs.  She sets the textbook back onto the pile of other books and then says, “Sort of.  I was never really concerned with school all that much.  There were other things that we had to worry about.” Wanda’s eyes are trained on the kitchen table.  To put it bluntly, Peter doesn’t know Wanda, and he especially doesn’t know her well enough to go probing into her past.  Of course, he’s read the Avengers biographies at least twenty times, and he’d be lying if he didn’t say that Wanda’s backstory didn’t strike him in the wrong way.  She _volunteered_ for Hydra’s experiments; she messed with every single Avenger’s head until it twisted their mind into seeing nightmares; she was the reason for the Sokovian Accords (at least, that’s what most of Peter’s teachers say).  But Peter knows he isn’t one to judge, and he also knows that Wanda cares a lot about the other Avengers. Anyone with eyes and enough experience in social situations can see the guilt just off the way Wanda carries herself.

Peter is eager to change the subject.  “So why do you think Tony put that stupid panic mode thing in my suit?”  He doesn’t want to sound ungrateful because he knows having an Avenger at his beck-and-call would be pretty useful.  But still!  Peter is sixteen years old!  He doesn’t need a baby-sitter.  

Wanda sighs.  “Peter, Tony is just looking out for you.”

“ _Tony_ is just smothering me,” Peter says.

“You know, this reminds me of…” She bites down on her lip and then spits the word out, “ _Pietro_.  He never let me do anything that I thought was fun.  Pietro was pretty fast.  Took all the bad guys out before I could.”  A hint of red flashes in her eyes. “It made me angry sometimes.  But when he died and I started to have to take care of myself, I realized it wasn’t just Pietro smothering me.  He was—”

“Protecting you.  I know,” Peter finishes. He doesn’t mean to sound harsh with Wanda, especially after she shared such a personal story.  “It’s just, I don’t need protection.”

“Peter, you’re just a kid.”  That makes Peter’s blood boil.  He expects that from Tony and Steve and May but not from Wanda, not when she used to be the kid on the team before he joined the Avengers. “And I know you hate it when people say that to you but, it’s true.  You’re still in high school. Take it from someone who didn’t have a childhood.  Don’t waste yours away.”

The conversation dies out after that.  Peter hates it when he’s trying to make a good point but someone always has a better one in response.  That’s exactly why he likes talking to Ned about Avenging.  May always sides with Tony and Ned just takes the middle ground.  Maybe Peter is being irrational with the whole panic-mode button thingy.   _Tony cares about you.  He’s just trying to protect you._ Blah, blah, blah.  So Peter will accept it. He isn’t going to try to deactivate it to prove a point.  He did that already with the tracking device last year and that backfired pretty badly when Peter needed help.  Besides, just because it’s part of Peter’s suit doesn’t mean it has to use it. Peter isn’t a kid.  Peter doesn’t need Vision or Ironman or Captain America or Scarlet Witch to help save his ass.  He’s the Amazing freaking Spider-Man!

* * *

Peter is pretty terrified about going to school the next day.  The first thing to happen when Peter walks into the hall is Ned running up to Peter.  Ned already called him about a hundred times after school yesterday.  Peter waited until after Wanda left to call Ned and give him all the details about the dinner and why she was there. Even after Peter filled him in last night, Ned is still peppering him with questions, all of which are centered around the panic-button.  “Maybe we should go somewhere a little more secluded and see what Avenger shows up next.  Oh, oh!  Do you think it’ll be Captain America?  How cool would it be if we got to meet a former international criminal?!”

“Ned, Ned, Ned, dude _you gotta calm down!”_ Peter insists.  

“So is that a no?” Ned whispers.

Peter thinks about it and how cool it would be just to have a one-on-one conversation with another Avenger.  Peter has plenty of questions for each Avenger, such as how Bucky keeps his metal arm from rusting or how Sam doesn’t freeze when he flies too high.  But then reality shakes through him again and he says, “No, no Ned.  We can’t do that!  Do you know how pissed Tony is going to be if we take time away from his stupid little Avengers team?!  He’ll never let me go on a mission with them.”

“Well, he does that anyway so what’s the difference?” Ned asks.

“Because eventually he’s going to call on me to come avenge shit with them!” Peter exclaims.

He looks around after he says that.  He glances at a couple of senior cheerleaders who are standing dangerously close to them.  They’re two really pretty girls, in the boring American-Doll sort of way, with blonde, curly hair that tussles down their backs.  Peter accidentally makes eye contact with them.  One of them, the girl with brown highlights, rolls her eyes.  “ _Beat it, freshman_ ,” she scoffs.  The other one girl makes the same disgusted face and they walk away.

“Junior!” Peter calls after them.  “I’m a junior…” he whispers as he sees the two cheerleaders walk away.  He turns back to Ned.

“Do you have any more leads on the robot?” Ned asks.

Peter shakes his head.  “No.  And I have no idea if it’s from lack of trying, either,” Peter admits.

“What do you mean?  Are you not looking into it?” Ned asks.

“Tony is doing it for me.  I was hoping that it would be done by now but it isn’t.  In fact, even if Tony did figure it out, there’s no guarantee that he would actually _tell me_ ,” Peter scoffs.

“Oh, come on,” Ned disagrees. “I know you’re all upset about not being brought on avenger missions and being the only Avenger who has a panic-mode button in their suit and not being included in any of their top secret briefings and—”

“Ned, dude, _not helping_ ,” Peter interjects.

“It’s just, I don’t think Tony Stark would lie to you about the robot thing.  He didn’t get mad at you when you fought off the first guy.  He didn’t say that you should have called him or Steve.  I’m sure he wouldn’t keep this a secret if he does figure out what the logo is linked to,” Ned says.

Peter grumbles, “Yeah, I guess you’re probably right. It’s just—”

“Hey, how’s your girlfriend, Penis Parker?” Flash says.  He comes running out of nowhere, slyly knocking the fedora off of Ned’s hat and then turning to look at the two of them.

“If you’re talking about Wanda Maximoff,” Peter responds, catching Ned’s hat before it falls to the ground, “I think you should know she isn’t my girlfriend and not only that but she can put you through a hundred feet of concrete if you ever piss her off.” Peter knows Wanda wouldn't actually do that (only to Vision) but it's still a little fun to see Flash's eyes go wide.

“What are the odds the Scarlet Witch is going to show up at the same place we’re at again?” Flash asks.

Peter bites down on his lip.  “What do you want, Flash?”

“I just wanna know what the Scarlet Witch wanted with _you_ of all people?” Flash asks.

“She made it pretty clear what she wanted: _directions_.  I helped her get to the Stark Towers from here and that was it,” Peter lies.  He’s gotten pretty good at lying to classmates so this one comes easy.  A little too easy, and that’s disconcerting to Peter. Uncle Ben always made it such a point to never lie.

Flash scoffs.  “You had an Avenger talking you up and you just take the opportunity to make sure she doesn’t get lost? _Dumbass_.” Flash doesn't give Peter the chance to respond because he’s already turning on his heels again and strutting in the opposite direction.

Peter stares down at Flash.  It was moments like this that made it really difficult for Peter to keep his identity a secret.  If Peter could just tell everyone that he’s Spider-Man, Flash would feel pretty stupid being mean to Peter all the time.  No one would pick on him anymore.  No one would mistaken him for being just a kid anymore.  But he knows he can’t go around telling everyone his identity.  Tony and Steve and all the others are thrown into absolute obscurity everyday because everyone knows them as an Avenger, not to mention Peter doesn’t want to risk putting Aunt May in danger.  Or his friends.  

“I’m gonna go to class,” Peter gripes.  He says goodbye to Ned, grabs a textbook out of his locker and is on his merry way.

* * *

The next two weeks are _boring._ The only update Peter gets from Tony about the logo is that he and FRIDAY haven’t found anything that would be helpful.  Tony tells Peter that they’ll keep looking but they don’t know how fruitful it would be.  Peter hopes that the robot would just attack Peter again.  This time he would be ready.  A better suit and now with the knowledge that the robot juice thing would ruin his extra gadgets.  He wonders what the robot is doing right now.  Peter assumes someone probably built it and now he or she are probably trying to update it a little better. Peter figures the robot is just going to attack Spider-Man again so everyday after school, when he makes his usual rounds about Queens, he keeps his eyes peeled for the robot.   _Nothing_.  Peter doesn’t understand.  The rounds he’s doing in Queens aren’t that exciting, either.  Sure, stopping a carjacking is always fun but it isn’t a job for an actual Avenger.  

Peter tries to get back into school now, especially since there isn’t much else for Peter to do.  But now that swinging from rooftop to rooftop is the exciting part of Peter’s life, trying to get into some cool science experiment or the rapidly approaching Decathlon tournament doesn’t feel as exciting as it used to be.  Still, Peter tries to be as enthusiastic as possible when he joins his Decathlon team in the gym. The practices are pretty relentless and, for someone who isn’t excited or talkative over anything, Michelle is going pretty hard on the practice questions.  Peter doesn’t mind. He likes spending a couple hours after school everyday going over questions, whether it be with his team or with Aunt May when she gets home from work.

When it comes time for the tournament next Saturday, Peter wakes up late (he was out until midnight running around Brooklyn), grabs a granola bar from the pantry and throws on his Decathlon uniform.  Peter tosses a book, the practice Decathlon questions and then his Iron-Spider suit into his backpack.  May is already waiting in the car for Peter and they hurry down to Midtown.  Everyone is already waiting for him and so when Peter rolls up, there’s a huge sigh of relief.

“Wow.  I’m surprised you made it on time,” Flash says.  “I just assumed it was going to be like nationals last year.”  At least Flash has the common courtesy to start hammering on Peter once May is back in her car.  

“Yeah, whatever,” Peter spits back.  “Bet you’d want me to leave so that you don’t have to be an alternate anymore.”

Flash scowls at Peter but before he can say anything, Mr. Harrington clears his throat. “Good, good, Peter is here!”

“Sorry, I slept in,” Peter admits.

“That’s okay.  What’s important is that my star student is here now!” Mr. Harrington says.  He counted heads briskly.  “Looks like everyone is here!  On the bus!  On the bus!”

Mr. Harrington and Michelle lead the rest of the Decathlon team onto the yellow, hot bus where Peter and Ned take a seat toward the back.  While Liz would’ve been throwing questions at them the entire bus ride, Michelle just shrugs, says something about needing a rest and then goes to sit in the very back as well where she pulls out a notepad and starts sketching.  Their competing at a small local high school in Astoria so the drive isn’t too far from Midtown.  Astoria High is pretty similar to Midtown with its huge parking lot packed full of school buses and kids running around, a football field with the high school logo painted on it and a huge sign that says _welcome_.  The Midtown bus pulls into its designated parking spot.  Mr. Harrington is already on his feet and leading the Decathlon team to the auditorium.  Astoria is smaller than Midtown, so Peter feels cramped and a little uncomfortable as he makes his way through the jam-packed halls.

This tournament is essentially state for the Academic Decathlon so if Peter’s team wins, they have an automatic bid to nationals. Thankfully, their first round goes pretty well, and Midtown wins it pretty easily. When it comes time for the second round, Peter feels unbelievably confident about himself, just like he feels when puts the Iron-Spider suit on.  Right as he and his team are about to go on stage, Peter’s phone goes off.  It’s a text from Tony that reads << _Good luck at Decathlon today. Want an update as soon as you’re finished_ >>.  Reading that puts a huge smile on Peter’s face and that energy carries itself onto the stage.  Round Two goes even better than Round One and they’re off to the championship round.  The last round is physics heavy, Peter’s speciality.  His smile gets bigger and bigger every time he answers a question correctly.  When Midtown is announced the winner, Peter feels like he just fought off an entire army of those weird looking robots all by himself.

Ned and Betty are knocking Peter back and forth as they walk up to get the first place trophy.  Michelle is staggering behind them, but there’s a light, amused smile on her face, a rarity.  The high of winning the Decathlon tournament carries on to the bus.  Flash brought his boombox so they blast music the entire way to the little diner, screaming the lyrics at the top of their lungs; in the meantime, Peter sends a text to Tony and May, feeling absolutely great about himself.

They stop for dinner at the Bel-Aire diner. It’s more upscale then where Peter is used to eating, but it’s a nice homey place.  The waiters greet the high school students warmly and direct them to a huge table near the window.  Peter orders a burger. He’s absolutely famished after a long day of using his brain.  Just as the food arrives, however, his phone starts buzzing. Grumbling, he takes it out of his pocket to see Aunt May’s photo.  “Yes May?”  He asks, getting up from his chair and walking toward the hallway that connects to the bathroom and back entrance.

“Hey, where is the dish soap?” May asks.

“May, I told you a thousand times that I left the soap for the dishwasher in my bathroom,” Peter says.  He presses his forefingers against his temples in exasperation.  It’s like she doesn’t even listen to him sometimes!

“Yes, I know and I found it.  But what is it doing in your _bathroom_?  It’s for dishes!” May exclaims.  

“I was cleaning my suit,” Peter says, honestly.  “Look, you know people are snapping pictures everywhere and there was this little stain so I tried getting it out with dish soap when the stuff for the laundry didn’t work.”

“And you didn’t put it away because?” May says.

“Look, I was—…” Peter falters.  He feels the tingling in the back his head, spreading down his neck like an electric pulse that makes his entire body convulse violently. His eyes sputter around, taking in the hair standing up on his arm and the goosebumps forming.  “May, I gotta go.”  

“Peter, what’s—”

May’s voice is filled with confusion but Peter doesn’t wait for her to finish her sentence. He ends the call, knowing full-heartedly that he’ll probably pay for hanging up on her.  He presses his back against the wall and peers around.  At first, Peter doesn’t see what’s going on but, as usual, his spider-senses are just anticipating a future threat because as soon as Peter finishes scoping out the diner, another figure walks inside.  The figure is dressed in black from head to toe: black sweatpants, a black sneakers and a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled over his head.  Peter only assumes it’s a boy because this guy has to be at least six feet tall and he’s massive, stocky like an ultimate fighter. The minute this person steps into the diner, the adrenaline starts coursing through Peter’s veins.  His heart is racing, pupils dilating.

A second later, Peter realizes why his body is reacting this way.  The mysterious figure shoves his hand into his pocket and draws out a small, very easily concealed weapon. He points the barrel of the gun toward the roof and fires two rounds. _Bang, bang,_ the gun echoes.  Immediately, the crowd in the diner reacts.  Customers are screaming. The waiter closest to the gunman drops his tray, and the glasses on which shatter, water, soda and bread spilling across the floor.  On the other side, Peter’s Decathlon team whips around to see where that awful noise came from.  When they see the gunman, Betty Brant and Gwen Stacy scream, there’s a mix of _what the fu-_ and _holy shit_ from Flash and Michelle, and Mr. Harrington is completely beside himself.  Everyone is scrambling to find cover.

Peter pulls his phone out.  There’s a group chat with him, May and Tony — the _Fam_ group chat.  The group chat normally consists of May and Tony agreeing that Peter needs to focus on school more than being Spider-Man, but more recently it was May and Tony congratulating Peter.  His fingers are a blur as he types and sends a frantic message in a mere matter of seconds:  << _Call 911.  Robbery at Bel-Air Diner.  Not a drill >>. _

A second later, Peter gets a text from Tony that says << _Is this a panic-mode joke? >> _

_ <<No.  Real.  Guy has gun.  I have the suit _>>  Peter has enough time to send that message plus a smiley face, thumbs up and spider emoji in a split second.  

“Get the money out of the registers!  All of it!”  The gunman screams.  He has a pretty deep voice so Peter is fairly confident the perp is a male now. “Now!”  He demands. He’s jamming the gun into the hostess’s neck.  She lets out this terrible sob and starts heaving bills into a black sack that gunman is holding in his other hand. “Faster!”  He screams. “You, help her!” The gunman demands to the waiter, the one that broke all the glasses by him. The waiter gets to feet and scrambles to help the hostess.

Peter turns to look at Ned, and their best-friend telepathy is working pretty great. Ned is staring at Peter’s backpack and then glancing at Peter. Peter frantically waves his hands. Being as discreet as possible, Ned snakes his way over to where Peter’s backpack is still leaning against his chair. Thankfully, the table where the Decathlon team is hiding is near the bathroom hall because Ned only has to slide it a little before it's in Peter's reach.  Even then, everyone is too preoccupied with the guy waving the gun (not surprising) that Peter isn't worried about any seeing him as he snags the backpack and leaps into the deserted hallway again.  He runs toward the bathroom, silently pulling the door open to get inside, already midway through unbuttoning his suit. _I really should just start wearing this under my clothes_ , Peter thinks to himself as he pulls the Iron-Spider suit on.  He gets out into the hallway where he webs up his backpack right near the emergency exit.

“Karen, do that thing where you change my voice, will ya?  My friends are out here,” Peter whispers.

“Activating voice modifier,” Karen says,

“Thanks, Karen,” Peter says.

Now, the gunman is staring down the customers.  The bag the hostess and waiter was filling up a second ago is pretty full so the gunman has to lug it around.  “Put every valuable thing you have in here.  I want your wallets, your phones, jewelry, _anything_ , into this bag.  If you so much as hesitate, I shot you!”

 _That’s my cue,_ Peter thinks.  He steps out from the shadows, leaning against the side of the wall.  Peter can’t help but feel a little confident with himself. Even though he knows his friends are in pretty grave danger, this is just a standard robbery and that’s just a little baby gun.  “Now, now, let’s not be rash about anything, Shooty Pants.  Can I call you Shooty Pants?” Peter says.  The voice is pretty deep but not that funny, _interrogation mode_ thing he tried with Aaron Davis.  It’s make Peter sound like Sam or Steve, like a thirty year old (er, a hundred year old to be more accurate).  

“Spider-Man?!  What the hell are you doing here?” The gunman says.  There’s an underlying tone of panic in the gunman’s voice.

“You, Shooty Pants, picked a bad place to rob.  Here, we are just trying to have a nice dinner and you're spoiling it for us!”  Peter sweeps out of the threshold and leans against the nearest table.  He glances at the couple closest to the shooter.  It’s an elderly couple, who are hunched together, practically shaking under the table.  Peter feels a little panicked now.  There’s _a lot_ of innocent people here.  “Hey, look at them, they’re scared to death.  What are you guys here for?”  He asks the couple.  “Date? Anniversary?”

“It’s my wife’s birthday,” the elderly gentleman croaked. “She’s turning 74.  This is her favorite place to eat.”

“Well, you don’t look a day over fifty-five,” Peter complements.  He turns to the gunman.  “And you!  You should be ashamed of yourself, ruining their birthday celebration like this!”

“You think this is a joke?!  I’ll shoot these people!” The gunman yells.  He waves the gun blindly in the air.

“Okay, okay,” Peter says, holding his hand. _Be serious, Parker.  You don’t talk during a fight._ “I’m sorry.  I’ll make it up to you. Here, have a drink,” Peter says, just as his flings a string of webbing toward a glass of untouched soda off of a table and then flings it toward the gunman.  Peter is careful not to aim the glass at the gunman’s head, just his arm.  It shatters.  Peter attaches a web to the top of the ceiling, kicks off his two legs and then propels himself forward.  He kicks the man backwards.  He topples a little bit but scrambles to his feet.  “You’re pretty persistent, I’ll give you that—”

The gun goes off.  It’s like time freezes.  His mind starts whirring, his hands are nearly buzzing and it’s _involuntary_ as he sends a grenade web in front of him.  The second following, all three bullets are gone, trapped in the grenade webbing that’s now stuck to the side of the restaurant.  Peter takes in a deep breath to calm his frenzied senses but by then, the gunman is already racing toward the door.  “He has our stuff, Spider-Man!”  cries a little boy.

“No, he doesn’t!” Peter yells.

He grabs hold of the bag with a web and yanks it away.  The gunman doesn’t even look back when the bag is torn from his hands and finds its way into Peter’s.  The door slams shut, and Peter can feel the spidey-senses diminish.  He pants violently, taking in deep breathes and then glancing down at the bag to start passing out all the near-stolen items when he sees it.  The logo on the robot that attacked him.  It’s not a perfect match. The horse’s hair doesn’t look quite same.  On the bag, the horse’s hair is blowing in the wind, not just flowing down the horse’s back and, instead of the horse being in the foreground like the one on the robot, this one the horse is just a symbol engraved on the pendulum.   _This_ symbol Peter’s recognizes.  Only, it's not a symbol.  It’s a logo for Smythe Industries. Smythe Industries is a huge tech company specializing in robotics.  It ships out tons of machines that are used to conduct surgery and help the police force.  Peter read about the company in his computer science elective class he took in the eighth grade.

“Yay Spider-Man!” someone screams.  This brings Peter from his thoughts.  He looks up to see all the customers and waiters from the diner standing up and staring at Peter with wide-eyes.  They break into a cheer; Ned looks absolutely beside himself.

Peter smiles.  “Uh, uh, it’s nothing!” he says.  He knows he isn’t supposed to be arrogant about his powers, but when he hears people chanting his name, he can’t help but feel good about himself.

Again, a loud, ruckus noise brings Peter out of his giddiness: police sirens.  Either May or Tony tipped the police off, or the gunshots gave away what was happening at the diner.  Either way, this is not the place Spider-Man wants to be when the police show up.  “It’s been real and happy birthday!” Peter screams as he goes down the hall.

He grabs hold of his backpack so fast he’s pretty sure no one sees him and then escapes out back.  He quickly changes, using a nasty smelling dumpster for cover. The sirens are getting closer and Peter’s hyper-trained ears can hear plenty of yelling coming from the diner.  The cops are here now, which means there’ll be tons of chaos so Peter slips back into the diner, dressed back in his Decathlon outfit, without anyone questioning him.  His friends are huddled around in a little circle by their when he goes to join them.  Mr. Harrington is a few feet away, on his phone, practically sobbing into the receiver.

“Where have you been?” Michelle demands. That I-don’t-care-about-anything-front that Michelle always puts up is back, but Peter can hear the remnants of fear.

“You missed your friend Spider-Man,” Flash scowls.

“No, no, I — I didn’t,” Peter says.  “I just got off the phone with May when that gunman showed up.  Around the same time Spider-Man arrived.  He told me to hide in the bathroom and call the cops so…”

“What are _you_ so happy about?” Gwen asks.

She’s staring at Ned, who has this huge grin on his face.  “Well, Spider-Man was pretty badass as usual if I don’t say so myself,” Ned says.

“I normally don’t agree with losers like you,” Flash says, “but you aren’t wrong about this Spider-Man.  Even though he still owes me a new car.”

That makes Peter pretty happy to hear and, as the cops fill up the diner, the blue and red lights still flashing in the background, Peter can’t help but think about how great of a day it has been for both him and the Spider-Man.  First of all, they freaking won the Decathlon tournament, which means it’s an automatic shoe-in for nationals (he still needs to make up for what happened last year).  Second of all, Flash just complimented Spider-Man, which means that Flash indirectly complimented Peter. And third, Peter just figured out where that mysterious logo originates from.  

In his head, Peter is already planning out his trip to Smythe Industries.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what's going to come from this story so updating will probably be pretty random.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed!


	4. Operation Peter and Ned Infiltrate Smythe Industries

Chapter 4: Operation Peter and Ned Infiltrate Smythe Industries

The police gets statements from everyone individually, so Peter and his friends are stuck at the diner for a while. It’s not a terrible place to get cooped up at because the owner of the restaurant gives everyone free food and drinks to help pass the time. When the police give the okay for the people at the restaurant to start calling their families, Peter frantically grabs hold of his phone. According to his _Fam_ group chat, May and Tony are already on their way to the diner, which freaks Peter out a little bit because it’s going to be pretty hard to explain why Tony Stark cares so much about one little intern. Nonetheless, Peter gives May a call and it takes another five minutes to get her to calm down. She and Tony both called the police, explaining how they got here so fast. Peter reluctantly has to hang up when a police officer comes over to talk to him.

“So the Spider-Man told you to hide in the bathroom?” the cop asks Peter.

It’s pretty obvious that the cop doesn’t really believe Peter’s story but it doesn’t matter. Peter just has to trudge on. “Yeah,” Peter says. “I was getting a call from my aunt when I heard the guns go off.”

“And what did you do afterwards?”

“I called the police,” Peter says.

“ _You_ called the police? I thought the operators said someone named Aunt May called the cops,” the officer says. He raises his eyebrows.

Peter gulps. “Right. Aunt May, that’s my aunt. She was the person I was on the phone with.  I told her to call the cops.  Sorry, it’s just, it’s been pretty hectic of a night and… jeez, my friends could have died,” Peter says. He runs his fingers through his gelled down hair nervously and lets out a heavy sigh, feigning a sign of clear panic.

Luckily for Peter, the cop believes him.  “Okay.  You try to get some good rest tonight, son,” the officer says.

He’s the last of his friends to be interviewed, given Peter was supposed to be hidden in the bathroom the entire time.  By then, the cops start releasing anyone who’s statements have already been given.  Peter slings his backpack onto his shoulders, still feeling pretty exhausted, and follows Ned and Michelle outside.  Michelle’s parents are waiting for her, and she shrugs as her sobbing mother pulls her into a hug.  Peter looks over and sighs.  May and Tony are standing side by side, eyes wide.  “Oh, Peter!” May says.  She isn’t a frightened as everyone else, but her voice is shaky.  It makes Peter feel pretty guilty knowing this is probably how she always feels whenever Peter puts the suit on.  She pulls him into a bone-crushing hug and lays a kiss on his forehead.  “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“May, May, really I’m okay,” Peter says.  “I…” he looks over at Flash and Betty and Michelle.  They’re focused on their families, but they’re still within ear shot.  “Spider-Man told me to stay in the bathroom the entire time.  I don’t think the gunman guy ever knew I was even in the building.”  

“Hey, that’s Tony Stark,” says a little kid walking past the three of them.  All eyes seem to turn to look at Tony.

Flash breaks away from his parents and takes a couple steps toward Peter, Tony and May. “Shit, you really were an intern,” Flash says.

Tony clears his throat.  “Yes, yes he _is_.  Now, now, let’s focus people.  Your loved one just escaped death.  You shouldn’t be focused on me.  You should be focused on your little children or parents or whatever…” Tony says, trailing off and putting his temples into his forehead.  The crowd dissipates a few seconds later, but Peter can still see some people glancing at Tony occasionally.  “So, Spider-Man saved the day?” Tony asks when mostly everyone is no longer interested in the local celebrity anymore.

Peter grins.  “Yeah… I — I won’t lie, Spider-Man was kind of the hero tonight,” Peter admits.

May sighs. “I hope this Spider-Man isn’t arrogant or anything,” she says, tussling the top of Peter’s hair.  She pulls him into another a hug.  “You need to stop scaring me like this, Peter, and you need to stop getting your Decathlon team in trouble all the time,” she scolds, quietly.  She hits Peter’s arm.

“Hey, it’s not my fault. I think Ned is bad luck,” Peter says, defensively.

He looks over at Tony, who is smiling at Peter proudly. In that split second, Peter thinks about pulling Tony aside and telling him everything about the Spencer Smythe lead.  But then the panic-mode button crossed Peter’s head. Maybe a protector, but it feels more like a babysitter. Instead, Peter smiles back at Tony.

Everyone’s parents came to the diner after the mishap with the gunman so no one on the Decathlon team takes the bus home; even Mr. Harrington’s wife drove out the long distance to come make sure her husband is okay. May invites Tony over for dinner, but he declines. Tony still knows that there’s a little bit of bad blood between him and May. Tony does a lot for Peter, and that’s something May hasn’t overlooked. On the contrary, May also hasn’t overlooked everything else Tony has done: manufacture weapons that ended up in the hands of terrorists, create Ultron that destroyed the entire third world country of Sokovia, willingly put Peter in danger by having him fight a bunch of trained Avenger/killers during the Civil War, etc, etc., etc. May doesn’t pretend to be happy about Tony’s acceptance of Peter’s request to be a part of the Avengers. Beside the group chat Peter forced the two of them into and now, of course, the last time May talked to Tony was when she found out about Peter’s secret identity. The string of cuss words that came out of Aunt May’s mouth still scars Peter — and he goes to _public high school_.

Peter wants Ned to come over that night so that he can fill Ned in on the new robot lead, but May insists that Peter takes it easy that night, and after texting Ned, it’s clear that Ned’s parents don’t want him running out of the house. Peter joins May at the kitchen table May eats some leftovers and then Peter makes up some excuse about needing to get rest up. He goes to his bathroom, takes a shower, gives May a kiss, who is now watching _Love Actually_ in the living room, and staggers into bed. He turns the light out and calls out, “Night May. I love you!” Instead of going to bed, Peter grabs hold of his laptop and types into the search bar _Smythe Industries_.

The first link to pull up is Smythe Industries’ main webpage. “Okay, Smythe Industries, let’s see what you're all about.” All Peter sees after clicking on the link is a photo of Spencer Smythe.  For a guy that’s probably around fifty, he doesn't look  _that_ old. His brown hair sweeps out of his eyes and is cut in a pretty similar style like Peter’s — you know, nice and full but still not in your eyes. Maybe it is just the way this guy posed for the camera, but he looks unhappy. His lips are formed into this thin line that brings out his sharp jaw bones. His clenched jaw isn’t the only thing that makes Peter a little nervous when he takes a look at this guy. It’s his eyes. Angry and very serious, like there is no love left in his life.

Peter clicks on the _Our Story_ part of the website and skims through it. The usual sort of stuff for a robotics industry. They started off small, in the garage of Spencer’s parents home where he built toy robots for his son, Alistair. He had a kid when he was pretty young, his second year of college. Spencer could barely afford public state college tuition where he majored in mechanical engineering so he started selling these robots to help support him. His designs became extremely popular, everyone loves the underdog who grows to own a multimillion dollar company. Peter has already heard stories like this a hundred times so he loses interest in the Smythe Industries biography. He clicks on the staff button. It pulls up another picture of Spencer Smythe, gives the same background information as before. His son, Alistair, is pictured underneath. He looks like his dad, except more muscular and not as lanky. Alistair’s hair is a brighter shade of brown and, instead of looking like he’s scowling, Alistair has this charming smile on his face. Alistair is the vice president of Smythe Industries.

“Why would a company like this hold a grudge against Spider-Man?” Peter says to himself. He clicks on another part of the website, the part that is labeled _Available Tours_. Most are during the school day and Peter knows he wants to save his skipping school days for when there is an actual Avengers mission. There are a few next weekend, though. Peter clicks on the Saturday one. There are seven open spots left for the tour at 11:00. Peter grabs hold of his phone and clicks on Ned’s contact.

“Peter?!” Ned says frantically into the phone.

“Ned, dude, you’re never going to believe this. The guy who was trying to rob the diner had this bag, right? The one where he put all the money. And on that bag was a really, really, really similar logo that was on the robot!” Peter exclaims. Remembering that he is supposed to be asleep, Peter glances at the doorway, waiting to see if May was going to come check on him.

“Really?” Ned gasps. “Oh, and nice job with that gunman.”

“Thanks man,” Peter says. “Anyway, the symbol thing on the robot looks like the same logo that Smythe Industries uses.”

“And Smythe Industries builds robots!” Ned says.

“Exactly! I don’t know if some bad guy just stole a bunch of stuff from Smythe Industries or if someone there secretly has a grudge against Spider-Man. Not sure why someone would like Spider-Man, though…” Peter mutters. “Anyway, I’m on their website right now and we can sign up for free tours next Saturday. You in?!”

“Getting to go on a surveillance mission with Spider-Man? Duh! Of course I’m in!” Ned explains.

“Sweet!” Peter says as he quickly pulls up the _apply for a tour_ screen and begins to type in his and Ned’s information.

“Peter, Smythe Industries is a little far though, man,” Ned says. “I’m talking at least a forty-five minute draw when there isn’t traffic. Ugh, that metro ride is going to be awful and expensive. Plus it’s mid-day Saturday so crowded too.”

“I can always ask Aunt May to give us a ride. I think she has next Saturday off so she probably wouldn’t mind,” Peter muses. “She might be a little curious when I’m so interested in going to Smythe Industries but I’m sure I’ll think of something to say to her.”

“I guess that could work,” ned muses. “Okay, I got to go Peter. My mom wants to know why I’m on the phone instead of spending time with my family. Whatever. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“See you,” Peter says and he hangs up the phone.

He takes one long look at the Smythe Industries website again before closing his laptop and getting into bed. He pulls the covers over as he tries to think clearly. The biggest question that consumes Peter’s thoughts before he goes to bed is why would someone want to kill Spider-Man? Maybe that’s a dangerously arrogant thing to think, that Spider-Man would have no enemies besides criminals and evil people. But that robot came for Spider-Man and that liquid stuff was clearly designed to destroy his suit. Seriously, what other purpose would it have? And then, an even worst thought crossed Peter’s mind. What other enemies did Peter have, beyond just robots? Peter can probably handle robots and, if not Peter, the other Avengers could. But if Peter made an enemy that was far more powerful than even Vision or the Scarlet Witch? How would Peter stand a chance then?

Peter falls asleep uneasily with that terrible thought in mind and when he wakes up, there’s a new found sense of urgency that Peter has yet to feel in the past couple of years that he’s assumed the secret identity of Spider-Man. May left early to go to work, so Peter seizes the opportunity as a way to suck up to Aunt May in order to get what he wants. He eats some cereal for breakfast and then plots his way to convincing May to drive him to Smythe Industries. Peter starts to realize that trying to convince May this has little to nothing to do with Spider-Man and that it really is just an innocent tour may be Peter’s most daunting task yet. As he starts loading and hand-washing the dishes, he realizes he should probably stick to flying around in spandex. Where the hell does May even keep the gloves for the dishes? The only thing Peter has going for him so that he at least know where May stores the dish soap. An hour later and a hopefully cleaned correctly load of dishes, Peter starts scrubbing down the coffee stains on the counters. Realizing that there’s a really easy way for Peter to entertain himself when doing housework, he closes the blinds, locks the doors and windows and then puts the Iron-Spider suit on. He challenges himself to sweep and mop the floors while upside down and he has to admit, he did a pretty good job at it. Peter’s other task for the day is going to be getting his homework done. That normally makes May happier than when he helps with the housework. To make sure that it’s really obvious Peter has been working hard all day, he spreads out his textbooks, papers and computer all across the kitchen counter where he starts going hard at his calculus homework.

May calls thirty minutes before she’s coming home. That gives Peter enough time to change out of his Iron-Spider suit, pull up the blinds, and start making spaghetti. “Okay, siri,” Peter says to his iphone. “Google _how to make spaghetti_ _and meatballs_.”

“ _Searching google for how to make spaghetti and meatballs_ ,” Siri responds back; definitely not as good as Karen but Siri will have to do.

 _Okay. Martha Stewart looks pretty helpful_ , Peter thinks to himself. He clicks on her website and starts following the recipe to the t. Put some salt in a pot of water. Boil that sucker good. Mix some parmesan, garlic, eggs and parsley in another bowl; Peter is a little embarrassed when he has to google what parsley looks like. Though Peter knows there’s a reason why May doesn’t let Peter do a lot of the cooking, he feels pretty good about himself when he finishes with the meatballs and sauce and the pasta is almost finished.

Peter hears the door unlocking. May walks inside and her mouth drops out slightly. “Oh god, what did you break?”

Peter puts the spatula down and frowns. “What do you mean what did I break? Can’t I just do something nice for my aunt?” As soon as Peter says, he understands where May is coming from because he technically didn’t just do this to make May happy. “Okay, okay, there is something that I want,” he admits quickly. He puts the two plates of spaghetti on the table. “Here let me take that. Just sit. Sit and eat,” Peter says. He grabs hold of May’s jacket and purse and puts them on the coat rack.

May still looks suspicious but she nonetheless goes to the kitchen table and tries Peter’s spaghetti. “Not bad.”

Peter lets out a sigh of relief. “Good, because I thought I may have overcooked the pasta,” he says as he goes to join May at the dinner table with two glasses of ice water.

“So,” May says. “What is this about? Is there an Avengers mission I need to know about?”

Peter shakes his head. “No, no, no, there’ll be no Spider-Man involved in this.” It’s technically not a lie. Peter isn’t going to tour Smythe Industries as Spider-Man, at least not yet. “Ned and I signed up for a tour at this place called Smythe Industries. It’s this—”

“Science place. I’ve heard of it before,” May says. She is only semi-suspicious. “Why exactly are you and Ned going there?”

“B — because you know how much Ned and I love robots and mechanics and everything, so we thought it would be pretty awesome if we could see only one of the biggest robotics building companies in New York,” Peter says. May’s eyes soften a little bit and Peter can tell she’s starting to warm up a little. “Ned is pretty in love with Spencer Smythe. Plus, the tour is free so we wouldn’t have to pay for anything.”

“And you’re asking for my permission, which is new,” May says.

“And a ride,” Peter admits.

May smiles lightly. “When is the tour?”

“Next Saturday,” Peter says, quickly. “At 11:00. It’s just, it’s gonna be a long metro ride and it’s gonna pretty crowded and go through a pretty shady place, too.”

May laughs.  “I’m sorry. Is Spider-Man worried about getting mugged?” Peter’s smile slips away and he scowls. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” May says. “I’d love to drive you and Ned. If you want, I can go on the tour with you?”

Nope. That wasn’t what Peter wanted. He backtracks. “No, that’s okay, May. I mean, come on. Are you really going to be interested in the nit-picky work of building robots?”

“No, I guess not,” May admits. She shrugs. “I’m sure there’s a nice bookstore that I can go to. Do you know how long the tour is supposed to be?”

“Probably no more than a couple hours,” Peter says.

“Okay,” May says. “You can tell Ned at school tomorrow that I can give you guys a ride on Saturday. And since you made dinner, I’ll unload the dishes instead of making you do that.”

Peter grins, not just because he doesn’t have to do his least favorite chore. He texts Ned that night: << _Mission is a go. Operation Peter and Ned Infiltrate Smythe Industries is a go! >> _

* * *

 

“Spider-Man frenzy has kicked in yet again,” says Betty Brant over Midtown High’s extremely cheesy news report the next day at school. The green screen behind her is playing poorly filmed shots of Spider-Man kicking ass in the diner. Peter, who was at his locker rummaging through his textbook, stops to watch the segment. “After winning their competition, our danger-prone Decathlon team managed to get themselves into trouble again when the local diner they were eating dinner at was robbed at gunpoint by an unknown perpetrator.”

“Spider-Man swept in to save the day once again,” Jason Ionello adds. “He took down the gunman in a matter of minutes before the cops arrived.” Peter doesn’t mind Betty, especially since she’s on the Decathlon team, but Jason Ionello pisses Peter off. He’s like Flash, except not as smart.

“As a member of the Decathlon team, it’s hard not to say that Spider-Man is a hero. Hard to find men like that,” Betty Brant says. She glares at Jason for a couple of seconds before looking at the TV screen.

Ned is right around the corner, looking at the screen just like Peter. It’s a repeat of last year, really. The Decathlon team is getting bombarded with questions about what happened at the diner, except for Michelle, who scares away all the underclassmen begging her to fill them in on what happened. Ned is really enjoying the attention and Peter, of course, wants to put in parts about how awesome Spider-Man was but he knows he can’t. He was supposed to be hiding the bathroom. When Peter has to tell people that part of the story, they give Peter a look. _You know, I’m technically the real hero_. He sits at lunch glumly with Ned.

“You want to tell people you’re the Spider-Man, don’t you?” Ned asks.

Peter shrugs. “I can’t, dude,” he says. He looks over at Michelle who is sitting by herself. She has a stack of books next to her, and her head is bent over. She tries hard to not associate herself with Peter or Ned as much as possible but she always comes to sit by them anyway. “Hey, Michelle,” Peter says.

“MJ,” she corrects without looking up from her book. “And I’m not interested.”

Peter raises his eyebrows. “What?” He slides a little closer to where Michelle — MJ is sitting. She looks up from her book, reluctantly. “I just wanted to know how you were holding up since the attack at the diner.”

“Better than you,” she says. “You haven’t had much sleep recently.”

“Wait, what?” Peter says.

“The bags under your eyes. Plus, you fall asleep in your Spanish class everyday,” Michelle says. “I told you. I’m observant.”

“Huh,” Peter says. He pulls away from Michelle and goes back to sit next to Ned.

“I’m doing alright, though. Thanks for asking,” she adds quietly. Her eyes are already hidden by her hair and her head is tucked behind her latest novel.

Ned stares at Peter for a long second after that interaction. “What?” Peter asks.

“You never even asked how I was doing after the diner thing.” Ned says, frowning.

“You were smiling the entire time,” Peter says, chuckling.

Ned comes over that night to ‘do homework’, but really to do some more research on Smythe Industries. “But what’s this guy’s motive?” Ned asks. He is settled onto the edge of Peter’s bed and is sipping some lemonade May left in the fridge for them. “I mean, you said your spidey-senses were going off whenever Spencer Smythe or Alistair Smythe were around so they have to have something to do with the robots. But why would they go after Spider-Man?”

Peter shrugs. “Dunno,” he says. “Maybe the internet can tell us.” Peter pulls open his laptop and types in _Smythe Spider-Man_ . Instantly, over thousands of links fill up Peter’s screen and as Peter reads the headline of the first line and sees the google images that load, his blood goes cold. _Smythe Industries headquarters destroyed in Vulture/Spider-Man fight. Costs millions to repair damage._ Peter clicks on Google Images. The first photo is of a thirty-story high rise building with but top few levels have been blown apart. Shattered and burned, smoke rising up above. “Oh shit…”

“What is it?” Ned asks. He comes to take a look at the photo. “Oh… _oh…_ ”

Peter clicks on the first link and keeps reading. “I destroyed a bunch of his designs and prototypes. Cost a lot of workers jobs.” Guilt fills Peter’s heart. Maybe it isn’t as bad as killing someone, but that doesn’t make what Peter did any less awful. “Roughly 1,000 people in total, all across the state of New York.”

“Hey, you can’t blame yourself for that. It wasn’t just you doing the fighting last year,” Ned says.

Peter doesn’t really listen to Ned, even though he knows his friend is just trying to make him feel better. There are worse things Peter could have done, so he has no idea why this hits Peter so hard. Peter did his research after the Vulture fight. Maybe twenty-five to thirty people were injured but there were no casualties. It had to have been a miracle for that to happen, but Peter made sure to visit every single person in the hospital at least once to apologize. He knows that being Spider-Man and doing this crazy fights can lead to people getting hurt, but he doesn’t think much beyond that. All of these workers must have had families. And he knows how hard Tony works for all the Avengers’ suits. Peter is sure Smythe probably works just as hard on his designs.

“I would hate Spider-Man too…” Peter says.

Ned gets up from his chair and puts his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “You can’t do that to yourself, dude. Think of all the people you’ve saved. You didn’t let Liz’s dad die, even after he tried to kill you on, like, three separate occasions…” Peter just shrugs. He scrolls down on the news report where he finds a link to a statement given by Spencer Smythe right after the attack. He clicks on it and then waits for the video to load. “Do you really want to watch this, Peter?” Ned asks.

Peter knows the answer to that question. Of course not. Why would Peter want to feel more guilty than he already feels? Nonetheless, Peter turns up the volume a little bit on his computer and plays the video. Spencer Smythe walks up onto stage in front of a podium. He’s wearing a pretty nice gray suit and a purple tie. He looks absolutely exhausted, like he hasn’t slept in a few days. Standing close behind Spencer is Alistair. “I appreciate you all for coming. I hate to do it, but I have to confirm that the rumors are true. Smythe Industries was destroyed last night by the Amazing Spider-Man in the attempt to defeat the Vulture. They flew directly through the top eight levels, shattering the glass walls. While the infrastructure was the most harmed, the attack set fire to a good part of the upper levels, destroying all of our blueprints and databases, including a portion of our backup hard drives. We’re fortunate to say that certain designs were saved from the wreckage and even more fortunate to say that because it was so late at night, almost no one was harmed except for me, who was still working late at night on a design. But I only received a few scraps and a couple of burns. This incident could have been much worse. I am well aware of that…”

So is Peter. He knows he got pretty lucky that no one died…

“That being said, there is still a myriad of repairs and damages that is a direct result from the Spider-Man/Vulture fight. My son, Alistair, is already talking to private contractors about renting a new building for our headquarters until the repairs or the rebuilding of Smythe Industries can be finished. Our once stable financing has already taken a severe hit after the loss of extremely important property, so we unfortunately have to face intense job cuts or pay cuts…” Spencer Smythe trailed off. Other than the sound of cameras going off, the room was silent. Spencer Smythe rubbed his forehead, swallowed hard and then continued. “We understand that the Vulture has already been apprehended by the police. Now, we are speaking directly to the Amazing Spider-Man. First off, my son and I would like to say thank you for protecting the people of New York. But my son and I, as one of many people who you inflicted harm upon, whether that be directly or indirectly, ask you to acknowledge the fact that, like the Avengers, damage follows wherever you go. You are not a killer, Spider-Man, and your service is invaluable. You sought to protect the people of New York and anyone injured, you made personal efforts to apologize, but you’re forgetting about the rest of us. The Avengers have already caught fire for ignoring collateral. Stop being the vigilante that comes in the night to protect the people but ignores the hailstorm of problems you leave in your wake. All I want is for society to ensure that you are held responsible if necessary. Come forward with your true identity Spider-Man, and take responsibilities for your actions. That is all. Thank you.” Smythe ended the press conference abruptly. He and Alistair got off the stage, reporters and cameramen going nuts as they left.

The video ends. “Whoa,” Ned says after a long second. “Whoa…”

“How did I miss this?” Peter whispers.

“Weren’t there a ton of videos like this? And didn’t Tony Stark warn you not to watch these kinds of videos?” Ned says. “I mean, they’re asking you to reveal your secret identity and that’s kind of a big no-no, according to you.”

“Yeah but, this guy was in pain. He just wants to make sure that I have some accountability and, no offense to some of the Avengers, not all of them do — or even act like — they’re taking responsibility for what they’ve done,” Peter says. He leans back in his chair, thinking out loud. “Okay, so let’s say Spencer Smythe _is_ behind the robot attacks. According to this video, it would seem like he’s only doing this because he wants my identity to be revealed.”

“So he isn’t trying to kill you?” He asks.

Peter shrugs. “I guess not.”

“Mmm,” Ned muses. “I don’t know if this is what you want to hear, but the guy said this is exactly like the Sokovian Accords, and it is. People realizing that the Avengers need to be held accountable for their actions, blah, blah, blah. And that turned into a civil war and half the Avengers became war criminals. What do you think is going to happen if you reveal your identity? Maybe they won’t go after you at first, but what if one of your big fights _do_ end with an entire apartment building burning to the ground? What if you get arrested for it?”

Peter feels terrible at just the thought of that many people dying because of him. “Then I’ll deserve it if all those people die.”

* * *

On Saturday, Peter and May go to pick Ned up early that morning. Peter sits in the back with Ned and they talk animatedly about Spencer Smythe’s latest released models (they did some research to make it seem like they’re actual fans in front of Aunt May). When they pull up to Smythe Industries about forty-five minutes later, Peter feels like he’s staring at a more antique version of the original Stark Tower: the building is made completely of glass and stands so tall that Peter can barely see the top. May parks at the curb, puts her hazards on and Peter and Ned briskly get out of the car. “Call me when you guys are finished and I’ll pick you guys up right here,” May says.

“Okay.  Love you, May,” Peter calls after her.

“Thanks for the ride!” Ned yells in addition. When she’s out of the way, Peter and Ned turn to look at Smythe Industries, labeled as such on a tarp in block letters that stand right above the revolving doors. With what he just learned, Peter assumes this is a temporary building and that makes Peter feel pretty guilty. Peter peers through the doorways and sees a line for security. “Dude, what if you have to scale this building?”

“Not nearly as bad as having to scale the Washington Monument,” Peter says. He turns to Ned. “Do you have your pass?”

Ned nods. He and Peter pull out their tickets to get into Smythe Industries. Peter goes first through the revolving door. Inside, his eyes are immediately drawn to the security guards with semi-automatics waiting at every entrance, including the bottom of staircases and the elevators. A receptionist is typing vigorously into her keyboard behind a massive white-marble desk. Behind her, a screen is playing the Smythe Industries commercial on repeat, the one where Spencer Smythe stands in front of his business, smiling at little kids and shaking hands with the governor. Pretty cliched. The one or two commercials Tony did were a thousands times better. A massive staircase dumps into the second floor, where Peter can just barely see scientists bustling around in white labcoats. It doesn’t look like there’s anything important on the second floor, at least not that Peter can see.

When Peter reaches the front of the line for security, he first is ushered through a metal detector and then stops at a table where a very stern looking security guard scans Peter’s tour pass and then glances through the contents of Peter’s backpack.  He feels a little nervous, but is pretty glad he didn’t try to sneak the Iron-Spider suit in there.  He and Ned make it through security pretty easily. “Your tour will meet at the top of those staircases in fifteen minutes,” the security guard says.

“Is there a bathroom anywhere?” Peter asks.

“Up the stairs and in the open hallway. Can’t miss it,” the security guard says.

“Thanks,” Peter says. He zips up his backpack and he quickly leads Ned around the chaos of people streaming up and down the stairs. When they reach the second floor, Peter realizes that it really would be impossible to miss the bathroom.  All that’s there on the second floor is the entrance to several elevators right beside a dead-end hallway with nothing but two doors: a womens and mens bathroom. “Come on,” Peter says quietly. He takes Ned’s arm and they go into the men’s bathroom together.

When they are sure the bathroom is deserted, Ned lets out a huge gasp. “Dude, did you see how many security guards there?!”

Peter shrugs. “Could be worse, I guess. At least they’re not robots… that I know of,” Peter says as he rummages through his backpack.

“What are you looking for?”

“This,” Peter says. Peter pulls out a small black marble. He rubs it in his hands a few times and then, small black wires — legs — starting forming. The little metal ball transforms into a small spider with wings. It flutters around Ned and Peter. “It’s a camera, Ned, and it’s pretty discreet so it’ll capture footage around Smythe Industries. Anything that could help us. And it has a GPS system so it’ll spend probably a day here and then fly back to me.”

“Whoa…” Ned gaps.

Peter grins. “Pretty awesome, isn’t it? Go on. Be free!” Peter exclaims. The spider-bot flutters higher and higher until it disappears into the vent.

Peter and Ned go back out to the main floor, then. They only have to wait a couple of minutes before a good part of the second floor is blocked by a massive hallway. A lot of the people touring with Peter and Ned are older, probably in college with clipboards and glasses and folders. Peter feels a little out of place here, but what’s new? When it’s time for the tour to start, everyone gathers around the elevator, which opens slowly to reveal the youthful face of Alistair Smythe. He looks a lot bigger in person. The moment Peter sees him, the tingling begins and Peter tenses up as Alistair swaggers toward the ledge of the staircase.

Peter leans forward to whisper into Ned’s ear. “My senses are telling me something isn't right about this guy…”

Ned giggles. “Your senses! That’s so awesome!”

“Shhh,” one of the college student says in a pretty nasty tone that makes Peter take a step back.

“Wow,” Alistair Smythe says. “Tours today are pretty popular. Gotta admit, you guys got pretty lucky today because our regular tour guide got the stomach flu last night so I’m taking over. I know. The vice president of an a multimillion dollar company, and I’m not even the head of our tours.” This earns a semi-weak chuckle from the college students. “My name is Alistair Smythe. My father is the owner and founder of this establishment. The tour is going to last for an hour and half, and you’re going to get to see where all the magic happens. There are a few things I need to cover before the actual tour begins. Just remember this is still a business and people here are in meetings and designing blueprints so we do ask that you try to keep your voices down. Also, we are currently in the process of building new prototypes so please, absolutely no photography or recording devices,” —Peter chuckles because he’s doing just that under Smythe’s nose—, “and stay with the tour at all costs. But that being said, please, please, please enjoy yourselves. Learn. Ask questions. After all, we’re founded on the desire to build a better society for the future.”

 _So why are you trying to kill Spider-Man?_ Peter asks as he follows Alistair Smythe and the rest of the tour group into the roomy elevator.

“We’re technically just renting this building out for now since we’re still working on rebuilding Smythe Industries, but we’ve moved in already and have enjoyed ourselves so much here, my father might just buy the building,” Alistair Smythe says. Behind the facade of cheerfulness and nonchalance, Peter can detect traces of malice.

As the day progresses, Peter has to admit that if he didn’t think someone in Smythe Industries was responsible for the robot attack, Peter would really be enjoying himself. It feels like Peter is stepping into one of the warehouses where Tony Stark used to build his weapons or Iron Suits. Alistair takes the tour to see where the blueprints are being crafted, the testing rooms for trying out prototypes (they get to see a live-action shot of a flying video camera they’re designing for the FBI), a few conference rooms and a glance at all the failed designs that are basically scrap metal to be compressed down, remelted and made into new things. The tour is supposed to end at Level Nine — there are eleven other levels, but those are either  offices or rooms the public can’t see. They stand in a deserted hallway, right in front two double red doors. While Peter’s spider-senses were starting to fade once it appeared that Alistair Smythe wasn’t going to attack Peter right there, his senses start flaring up again in the hallway.

“Ned, look,” Peter whispers. Painted on the sides of the hallway are variations of the current Smythe Industries logo. Different types of horses. Clocks instead of pendulums. Objects going in different directions. Under each picture, a different year is labeled. “Excuse me, sir?” Peter asks tentatively. “What are these?” Peter gestures towards the drawings.

“Excellent questions, Mister…”

“Parker,” Peter says.

“Mr. Parker. These are the first, second, third, fourth, etc. drafts of the Smythe Industries logo. The first,” Alistair points to what looks like a stick figure of a horse, “My father drew it.”

Peter points to the third to last drawing, the one he recognizes to be on the robot. “What about this one? That is… kind of nice…”

Alistair smiles. “Yes. We were going with that one for a little bit. Some of the pretty old prototypes had that logo on there but we trashed both the logo and the machines so that one never quite made it to the public eye.”

 _Unless you’re Spider-Man,_ Peter thinks to himself.

“What are you guys working on now in that room right now?” Ned asks, pointing toward the door at the end of the hall.

“You know I can’t tell you something that top secret,” Alistair replies. “But what we’re building is powerful and effective and intelligent. Our version of the Iron-Suit if you ask me.” Ned and Peter gulp, glancing at each other.

“Now, now, you’re not giving away trade secrets, are you son?” comes an echoing voice.

Emerging from the opposite end of the hallway is Spencer Smythe, wearing gloves, a lab coat and protective eye goggles. The photo on the website must have been taken a pretty long time ago because Peter has to admit he doesn’t look quite the same as he did in the photo. Wrinkles and gray hair are a lot more prominent, and there’s a jagged scar running from his lip to his chin. Peter grimaces, seriously hoping that the scar isn’t from the Spider-Man/Vulture attack.

As Spencer Smythe appears, the atmosphere in the tour group changes. The college students’ faces flush red as they stare up at the founder of Smythe Industries. They give him a little clap, extremely excited and shocked. Peter, however, starts to panic when he sees Spencer Smythe. The spider-senses are practically screaming that the father and son Smythe duo are nothing but bad news.

“Of course not,” Alistair says. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sure you all know who this: my father, Spencer Smythe.” There’s another round of applause. Peter and Ned join in nervously.

“Thank you, thank you. Has my son been doing a good job on the tour? I’m thinking if this VP thing doesn’t work out he can always have a career here,” Spencer jokes.

“Except I happen to be one of your best engineers,” Alistair protests. “Do you guys have any questions for my father?”

A mess of hands shot in the air. “Mr. Smythe, how do you come up with such fascinating and new ideas for better and better robots?”

Spencer shrugs. “It’s a good mix of creativity and a mechanics degree.”

“How do you deal with the constant pressure of creating better and better designs, especially with competitors like Tony Stark or Hank Pym?” Another asks.

“There are always competitors,” Spencer says. “What’s important is finding something that differentiates yourself from your competitors. For Pym, it’s his work with cybernetic helmets. For Tony, it’s being Iron-Man, of course. And for myself, it’s our advances in the medical field.”

“On the note of Iron-Man, do you have anything else to say about Spider-Man since he hasn’t turned himself in yet?” Someone says. Peter and Ned glance at each other.

Spencer’s furrowed brow becomes even more prominent but he puts on a smile nonetheless. “No one can force Spider-Man to do what is best for the state of new York, which is giving up his identity. But that’s no matter. The truth will come forward _eventually_.”


	5. It's that Spidey-Sense!

Chapter 5: It’s that Spidey-Sense!

“That’s basically a confession, right?” Ned asks. The tour is over, and Peter can't help but be happy about that. Being in the same _building_ as Spencer Smythe is enough to freak Peter out. They are waiting outside now, hunched together and whispering, even though there is no one out here who would possibly care what the two of them are saying. May already told Peter she is running a little bit late, which is okay since it gives Peter and Ned the chance to talk over what they’ve learned. “You heard him. _The truth always comes out_ , or something like that. And they’re building something similar to the Iron-Suits!”

Peter shrugs. “I don’t know. One thing I’ve learned when going after leads like this is that nothing is what they seem… I mean, I can tell you I didn’t expect Liz’s dad to be the Vulture when I asked Liz to homecoming.” Even then, something is still nagging on Peter, telling him that Spencer Smythe, despite the facade of being rich and powerful and _perfect_ , has a secret. “I’m pretty sure Spider-Man needs to pay a visit to Smythe Industries after hours. We just have to wait until the spider-bot gets back.”

The conversation dies quickly after that when Peter spots Aunt May’s car crawling forward. Traffic is so bad that she doesn’t even have to pull up to the curb for Peter and Ned to get in safely. In the passenger seat beside her is a bag of groceries and then a stack of checked-out books. “Did you guys enjoy the tour?” May asks, turning down the radio that blares 90’s music.

“Yeah,” Peter says, quickly. “Ned and I learned a lot of great stuff.” The double meaning behind that phrase is crazy.

It takes an extra thirty minutes to get back to their apartment because of traffic, and in that time, Peter thinks he’s about to go crazy. All he wants to do is sit with Ned and start planning out their mission to Smythe Industries. For obvious reasons, Alistair didn’t show the tour or tell the tour much about their security systems, so Peter is just going to have to rely on Karen and the spider-bot to do that for him. But from what he saw, Smythe Industries is pretty heavy on security cameras and security guards. Being caught on camera isn’t the worse thing to happen to Peter, especially if he can figure out the room to which all the videos are being streamed. If he takes out that room, he doesn’t have to worry about the police being called. Security guards weren’t technically an issue either, considering they are probably no match for the Amazing Spider-Man, even with guns. Peter isn’t that excited, however, about how many civilian lives are going to be put in danger if another one of those robots show up, and if the security guards are going to be incapacitated after a fight, Peter doesn’t want to have to worry about rescuing them. There has to be a way for Peter to get them out of the building. That’s all Peter can think about until May pulls into the parking garage of their apartment.

“May, can Ned sleep over tonight?” Peter asks as they get out the car and start making their way to the elevator.

“Only if Ned's parents are okay with it,” May says.

“Yeah, they’re cool with it,” he says. “I asked them this morning just in case and all my stuff is already packed,” he brags, holding up his backpack.

May frowns. “You two did all that planning without asking me for permission?”

“Uh…” Ned starts.

“I’m kidding. What do you guys want for dinner? Meatloaf? We can go out and get ice cream if you want?” May asks.

“That sounds great. Thanks May,” Peter says.

They get out of the elevator, impatiently following May at a slow walk to their front door where it takes an excruciatingly long time for her to unlock the front door. Once inside, they start making their way briskly before Aunt May even has the chance to hang up her purse. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she calls after them, “what are you guys doing for the rest of the day?”

“Homework,” the two friends say simultaneously.

“Bullshit,” they hear May mutter under her breath. That doesn’t stop Peter from closing the door behind them. It’s times like this that makes Peter want to have a lock on his door in order to keep Aunt May out.

Ned grins. He perches himself onto the edge of the bed. “This is kind of exciting, isn’t it? Oh, who are you going to call for backup?!”

Peter looks at Ned, confused. “What do you mean ‘who am I calling for backup?’ You obviously.”

Ned raises his eyebrows. “I mean, out of the Avengers?”

Peter doesn’t look up when he responds. “I wasn’t really planning on calling any of the other Avengers…”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Ned asks.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Peter shrugs. “Tony never said to call for backup on this. Plus, I’ll have my guy in the chair keeping a lookout for me to prevent anything from happening.” Of course, if something bad does happen, Ned wouldn’t be able to help Peter out, not like he did at homecoming last year. Maybe it’s stupid, border-line arrogant for Peter not to ask another Avenger to go with him. He doesn’t care. They obviously don’t need his help with missions, so why should Peter ask for theirs in return? Besides, doing recon is probably below their pay grade.

May interrupts their plotting when she calls them out for dinner: baked potatoes with bacon bits and cheese, and chocolate ice cream for dessert. Before they go to the kitchen, Peter cracks his window an inch in case the spider-bot needs to get in. Despite trying to burn through as much time by eating slowly and delving into their tour too deeply, it’s back to waiting for the spider-bot in Peter’s room. Ned and Peter play video-games, screw around by watching some of the funny viral videos made about Spider-Man and even attempt to get some homework. No luck on that. As mid-afternoon sets into late night, the two best friends try to stay awake but soon their eyes drift shut. It’s 2:00 in the morning when Peter hears the odd sound of whirring around his room. His eyes pop up open. Peter fell asleep on the ground and he flails around, unnaturally. He accidentally kicks his desk chair. “Shit!” He exclaims, gripping onto his foot.

Ned flies out of Peter’s bed. “What is it? What is it?”

“Oh my _god!”_ Peter exclaims. Peter grabs his ankle, eyes watering as he tries to orient himself. The little spider-bot, the one Peter let loose at Smythe Industries, flutters around Peter’s bedroom, like some overly excited bird. Just as Peter reaches for the spider-bot, he hears footsteps. “Crap, it’s May!” He exclaims.

Peter has just enough time to hide the spider-bot before May opens the door. She has a robe on, and her eyes are puffy red. “What is going on? It’s 2:00 in the morning!”

“Uh, sorry,” Peter says. “I kicked the chair on accident…”

May glowers at Peter. “ _Get to bed_ ,” she says firmly before closing the door behind her.

“That was close,” Ned whispers.

“I know. Let’s see what’s on this baby,” Peter says. He and Ned gather around his computer where Peter plugs the spider-bot into the USB jack. It takes a couple of seconds to load until the video streams, but when it does, Peter recognizes the bathroom where he and Ned let the bot loose. He fast forwards through the first part of the video, since most of it is what Alistair Smythe showed the tour group. The only rooms Peter has yet to recognize is the break room on Level 3 and some of the testing centers. But those don’t have anything interesting. In one testing center, some scientists are just working on getting the arm of an operating machine to start working. Peter keeps fast-forwarding through this footage until the spider-bot reaches Level 5. Peter only stops fast-forwarding because the tour was forbidden to see that part for ‘security reasons.’ “Let’s see what’s so special about Level 5, shall we?”

“I hope we get to see alien robots. How cool would that be?” Ned asks.

“Cool, I guess, except they’re probably going to be after me…” Peter says. At first, Peter doesn’t see anything special. Just vast hallways. The only thing of interest to Peter right now is that he notices the ends and beginnings of every hallway are equipped with cameras. _Skip, skip, skip_ , Peter thinks when he gets bored of looking at winding, endless hallways. He slows down the stream again when the spider-bot, which was following one of the security guards, stops in front of a closed, metal door. It lingers for a few seconds as it watches the guard fumble with his keycard and then swipe the electronic door handle. The security guard walks into a small, windowless room with two swivel chairs perched in front of at least fifteen different television sets, all streaming the surveillance videos the security cameras are recording. Peter squints his eyes just enough to see his tour group wandering around the halls. Then, the screen shifts to a different angle of the security group. “Must be on a rotation system,” Peter notes.

“So this is their head of security? I thought it would be more advanced,” Ned says.

“I guess… If I try to sneak into this building, the security guards there are gonna see me,” Peter says. “What if we set off some chemical thing that requires all the security guards to evacuate?” He gets kind of excited on that idea. Peter knows plenty of cool chemical combinations for that to happen.

“They’ll for sure call the police if you set off gas in the building, even if it’s harmless,” Ned says.

Peter sighs. “I guess you’re right… And pulling the fire alarm will do the same thing.”

“Oh! I know!” Ned exclaims. “What if we figure out how to hack into Smythe’s email? He can send an email that says all the security guards need to meet _somewhere_ that’ll be out of the way.”

Peter shrugs. “I guess that could work.”

“It’ll just be really difficult to try and hack into his computer.”

Peter shakes his head. “ _That_ I can take care of.” Peter rolls his chair over to the secret compartment in his closet Peter built to store his suit. He fumbles around with unlocking it before pulling out his stash of spider-bots. He glances at the labels before finding the one he’s looking for. “Mr. Stark gave this to me. This little guy is a virus, screws with any security system I hook it up to, no matter how advanced it is. If I find any security panel and link this spider-bot to it, their defenses are down. Tony already linked it to my computer. You’ll be able to email the guards as Mr. Smythe.”

Ned grins. “Ah, sweet! Guy in chair makes a return!” he squeals.

“Ned, Ned, yes you get to be the guy in the chair, but dude, if you talk any louder, May is going to hear us and then she’s going to call Tony and this whole operation is going to be shit out of luck,” Peter says.

“Right, sorry,” Ned says.

They keep watching the video. Still nothing too out of the ordinary. Not until the spider-bot caught wind of Spencer Smythe scurrying up the staircase. He was alone, and looked _very_ nervous, glancing over his shoulder occasionally and pausing every time he thought he heard something. When he got off the staircase, he was almost at the top floor. It was just like Level Nine, one small hallway leading toward a locked door. Peter could feel his heart beating more and more rapidly as Spencer undid the locks and pushed the door open. Peter leans in forward. _This has to be it_ , Peter thinks to himself. And then… he’s massively disappointed. It’s Spencer Smythe’s personal office, decked out with a mini fridge, this plush looking couch that’s probably more comfortable than Peter’s bed and more expensive than three months worth of rent. “Damn…” Peter mutters. They keep fast forwarding through the video but don’t get anything useful. When the spider-bot is finished, it finds it’s way out of the building before making laps around the building in case it missed anything. It took special care to examine the emergency entrance on the roof. It doesn’t look like anything in that building indicates Spencer and Alistair Smythe having anything to do with the robots.

“So, why exactly are you trying to break into Smythe Industries?” Ned asks.

“I need to find out why that logo was on the robot, of course,” Peter whispers. “Look, man, it’s not full combat or anything, unless I have to take out a few security guards. Maybe there’ll be blueprints or emails. I just need something to tell me that this lead is right…”

“Do you have a plan?” Ned asks.

Peter shrugs. “More and less.” He isn’t lying. Ideas for what he’s going to do have been floating in and out of his mind for the past few hours. “So, I’ll probably take the emergency entrance on the rooftop. It has guards waiting outside so I’m sure their keycards will get them indoors. The spider-bot will take care of the alarm, if one _does_ go off. I’ll give you the signal to get the security guards out of my way. And then I’ll probably start with where they manufacture their prototypes. It has all their blueprints so I’m sure if this Spencer Smythe _is_ involved with the building of these robots, something has to be there.”

“And I’m just gonna make sure—” Ned starts.

“That no guards or robots come,” Peter says. “Like I said before, my computer is linked to the spider-bot and there should be an option to look at the video streams. It’s _very_ self-explanatory. Tony didn’t want to make anything to complicated. So yeah, if you see anything suspicious, you let me know.

“I thought this is what your spidey-sense is for,” Ned says.

“Fine, your right. I don’t need a guy in the chair if I have the spidey-senses,” Peter starts.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Ned interrupts. “That’s not at all what I meant. Of course you need a man in the chair. You can’t just rely on your spidey-senses to get you through every mission… Not that they’ve failed you before… So, when are you doing this?”

Peter pauses for a long second, because there are a lot of things he has to worry about. Most of his concerns revolve around the consisting adults of May, Tony and Ned’s parents. He’ll have to come up with a good excuse that would explain why Peter is out late. “It’ll probably have to wait until next weekend, I guess.” As soon as Peter utters those words, the frustration of having to wait kicks in. He _hates_ waiting. For food. For the bathroom. For teachers to post his grades, and _especially_ for missions. He doesn’t like the idea of knowing that a bad guy is still out there plotting, and that the longer Peter’s waits, the higher the casualty list can become.

* * *

Coming up with the idea that the Decathlon team is having a team meeting at Michelle’s house isn’t very original, but it’s fairly effective. May is working Saturday so she doesn’t mind that Peter is going to be out of the house that night, something about wanting a night to herself at last. It’s just another bonus that May doesn’t have Michelle’s parents numbers so she can’t call him. Ned comes over on Saturday and Peter goes over how to use his computer. Then, when it starts to get dark and May still isn’t home, Peter and Ned drive to Michelle’s house. Just in front of her home, he turns off his data to make sure that if May tracks Peter, it’ll show his location to actually be at the place he said he would be at. Ned and Peter drive away to a pretty deserted place, where Peter changes in the back seat. Peter is focusing too much on him pulling the spandex suit up his legs and arms. It's better this way, though. Peter never lets himself think, _comprehend_ , that he is getting ready to go on a mission. It doesn't help that Ned looks terrified.

“I’ll be fine, Ned,” Peter reassures. Peter has to admit, however, he’s nervous as hell. He’s glad he has the mask on so he can hide how terrified he feels; it’s that same terror that recurs every time Peter puts the suit back on.

Smythe Industries isn’t too far from where Peter left Ned, so it only takes swinging from a few rooftops before he arrives. Peter stands outside Smythe Industries, trying to see the very top of building. _This is nothing._ The Washington Monument is five hundred and fifty feet tall. This building isn’t even close to that. Maybe two hundred to two hundred and fifty feet tall. Peter can manage this like no problem. _You’re the Amazing Spider-Man. You’re an Avenger. You’re a man. You are not going to die_ , Peter tells himself. He’s stops hesitating, stops thinking everything through. He gets a running start and then bounds into the air. His fingers barely clasp onto the glass wall. Peter doesn’t stop. He propels himself forehead, trying to get as high as he can without thinking about what he's doing. _Don’t look through the windows. Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Don’t look down_.

“You’re doing great, Peter,” Karen says. “Fifty more feet. You’re almost there.” Some people may find it distracting for an AI to be talking in your ear the entire time, but Peter thinks it is soothing, and a good source of distraction more importantly. It prevents Peter from looking down or from thinking about tired he is or sweaty his hands are. “Two guards by the door entrance,” Karen warns when Peter reaches the ledge of the rooftop.

“Okay, I’ve got this…” Peter whispers to himself. He takes a deep breath and leaps up the side of the building. He lands stealthily on the ledge, just in time to see the two guards look up from their post and gape at him. “Hey guys! Sorry do this—”

“What the—?!” One of the guards yell. He is already reaching for his gun and the other is grabbing for his radio.

“Sorry!” Peter yells. He leaps off the ledge, grabs hold of the radio and uses it to smash into the first guard. “Can’t let you do that!” The first guard stumbles backwards. Peter makes a running jump toward the two guards, grabbing hold of the first guard’s gun, throwing it aside and flipping him over. The second, he webs up in a couple of seconds. “I swear, I’ll be back in a little bit to get you guys. You can count on me!” Peter says. He grabs hold of one of the guard's keycards. “I’ll just be needing this for a little bit.”

He walks to emergency entrance and takes a couple deep breaths. “Nice job, Peter,” Karen compliments him.

“Thanks Karen,” he says. He has a spider-bot at the ready as he approaches the emergency entrance. According to Karen’s calculations, once Peter opens the emergency door, he has fifteen seconds to override the security system before the alarms go off and his mission is a bust. He uses the security guard’s keycard to get inside. To his left, Peter sees the alarm system. He lets go of the spider-bot, and it latches itself onto the alarm system. Peter counts down his head as he watches the spider-bot go to work on the alarm system. _10, 9, 8, 7…_ YES! The once red screen on the little alarm system goes blank, which means the security system is completely disarmed. “The security systems are down. Send the email out.”

“On it," Ned says. There's a long pause and then, "Yep. All the security guards are going to be moving to Level One and waiting there. You’ll have twenty minutes,” Ned says through Peter’s earpiece. “Dude, this is so cool. It’s like an actual—”

“Ned, focus,” Peter interrupts. “I’m gonna start making my way to that building room. He leans against the railing, looking down at the lower levels. There’s a few footsteps, and then security guards start hastily leaving their posts. When he thinks all the security guards are gone, Peter starts to feel a little more relaxed. He looks over the side of the railing again. “Okay, that’s not too bad,” he says to himself, even though he is fully aware it’s a long way to fall. 

He attaches a web to the top of the staircase and slowly lowers himself down the many flights of stairs. Confirming that all the security guards on gone, Peter is absolutely thrilled that part of the mission is going smoothly. Peter is even more thankful that all the levels are labeled; he has no trouble getting onto Level Nine. He swings a little bit and then jumps onto the ground securely. Like he remembers from the video, the entrance to Level Nine is a pair of double red doors. It would normally require keycard identification and a password, but because the security systems are down (Spencer Smythe should thank Peter anyway because at least he’ll realize after tonight that his security systems need to be updated) Peter can just open the doors.

He isn’t disappointed when he gets inside. The building room he steps into is _massive_ , probably as big, if not bigger than the one Tony Stark had at the former Stark Towers. He is standing on a balcony that overlooks a much vaster space: desks on one side, disheveled with loose papers; in front stands a few rows of chalkboards with blueprints taped up above. There aren’t any actual machines so Peter doesn’t quite know what he is looking for. He steps on the side of the railing of the balcony and then leaps forward, then landing gracefully and, most importantly, silently. Peter edges forward and goes straight toward the desk. Printed emails about upcoming conferences. A calendar of due dates. "No, no, no..." Peter says. He stops on one piece of paper and grins. It’s blueprints of the head of the first robot. _That was easy enough_ , Peter thinks. This is all the proof he needs. He flips through the other photos. More blueprints, but to Peter’s dismay, it isn’t just of the first robot Peter fought. There are other designs of robots that Peter hasn’t seen before. One that looks like a pretty typical robot: square body, square head and what looks like coils for arms. The other looks like a deformed minion from _Despicable Me_ but made out of metal and hatred, not yellow, gooey stuff. The last one is like a massive flying spider, as if Spencer Smythe blew up one of Peter's spider-bots.

“What is that stuff?” Ned asks.

“I — I don’t know…” Peter admits. “I haven’t seen these before…”

“Do you think he’s building that now?” Ned asks.

Peter can’t afford to think about that right now. He starts rummaging through the other papers, trying to make sure that he doesn’t rearrange the contents of the desk too much. There’s a couple of receipts; it appears that Spencer Smythe made some pretty hefty charges to get hold of a long list of chemicals, some that created substances with which even Peter wasn’t familiar, and weapons. Peter took out his cell phone, snapped a few photos of all the papers he could see and then started off on the desk drawers. Nothing too interesting at first, and then he got to the bottom drawer, which was locked. He couldn’t get it open. “Come on,” Peter grunts as he yanks on the handle. “Alright. Let’s go Spider-Man.” Peter wraps both his hands around the handle, counts down from three and then pulls as hard as he can manage. The drawer not only opens but comes off the hinges, completely glued to Peter’s hand. “Shit. Don’t worry, Mr. Smythe, I’ll make sure to put it back.”

“You could have tried looking for a key,” Ned says.

“That’s obviously not a lot of help now,” Peter mutters. With a lot more effort than Peter expects, he manages to peel his fingers off of the drawer handle. “Let’s see what Spencer Smythe wanted to keep locked up,” Peter says. He starts rummaging through his folder, first pulling out the old Spider-Man suit he trashed. Peter sighs as he stares at the ruined fabric. “Well, guess _that_ is good proof as well.” The rest of the contents inside are just folders, which surprises Peter. But as he starts to dig through the contents of the folder, he realizes why Smythe guarded it more than even the blueprints. The contents are pictures… But not random photos of the robot designs… _It’s of Spider-Man_. Photos of Peter lying in the hammocks he builds and relaxes in after a long day of fighting. Photos of him perches against the side of the building. Of Spider-Man stopping in the middle road to help a couple of pedestrians pass during the height of traffic. Him _at the Avengers Compound!_ There’s a photo of Spider-Man standing beside Mr. Stark talking. “Oh my god…”

“Are those photos of you?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah of Spider-Man. How did he not manage to take photos of me?” Peter gasps. That isn’t even the worst consequence that could have happened. “Jesus…” Peter says, letting out a huge sigh of relief. “If this creep got a picture of Aunt May…”

He turns to the next folder. This one is even more alarming. Photos of the other Avengers out and around parts of New York. Steve and Nat, dressed in laymen clothes, getting a cup of coffee. Tony driving in his car with Pepper, smiling broadly in the passenger’s seat. Wanda Maximoff, dressed in her Scarlet Witch uniform, on the metro… Peter groans as he flips through the photos. She has her head pressed against the side of the metro and, in the background, Peter could just barely discern himself on his phone, trying to act inconspicuous. Peter first thinks that his cover is blown, that this picture only confirms that Spencer and Alistair Smythe knows his identity. He feels his head spinning.

“Peter, what is it?” Ned asks. His chirpy voice is gone. “What’s wrong, dude? You’re freaking me out!”

“They — they — they have a folder of pictures of the other Avengers… I’m in it. When Wanda was on metro after the panic-mode thing, this guy took a picture of her, and I’m in the background. I know — I know I may be overreacting but…” Peter starts. His skin is blistering hot under his suit. He just wants to tear it off and get the hell out of Smythe Industries.

“Dude,” Ned says. “The picture is probably just about Wanda. It has to be a bad coincidence. Just take some pictures and get out of there, man. This doesn’t feel right.”

 _Join the club,_ Peter thinks. That electrocution sensation in the back of Peter’s head has been going for so long, he hardly even notices it right now. He pulls out his cell phone snaps a couple more photos of basically everything in the little lab. Just as he is about finished and ready to launch himself onto the railing, he hears the sound of footsteps. Peter doesn’t think. He leaps off the side of the desk and attaches himself onto the side of the building. He scales up further. “Karen, activate hypersensitive hearing mode,” he says. Buzzing and ridiculous noises fill his ears. He tries to sort through the noise: he detects the footsteps but also hears them soften. And then —

“ _Dodge all the sneak attacks. I don’t need no eyes on ‘em!”_ His phone blares. “ _It’s that spidey-sense, ain’t got no surprise on me_.”

“Motherfu—,” Peter yells. He keeps one hand on the side of the wall and uses the other to fidget around in the small little pocket of his suit where he hides his cell phone. He could have swore he put his cell phone on silent, and the ringtone… It’s a viral video about Spider-Man to a Bruno Mars song, and it’s pretty sweet. Really, you can’t blame Peter for making that his ringtone. The song continues. It feels as though the entire silent warehouse is now echoing with the song. _Shit!_ He thinks to himself. He definitely should have told Aunt May that he is going on a mission and that tonight wouldn’t really be a great time to call him. It takes a couple tries to decline the call.

The silence that follows feels devastatingly loud. Peter waits for a long second to see if his cover is blown. The footsteps are coming back — he can only assume that the security guards heard Peter and they’re coming for him now. “Hostile incoming toward the door,” Karen whispers.

Only, it wasn’t a security guard…

With a painfully echoing boom, the red double doors splintered apart. What burst forward shouldn’t have scared Peter has much as it does: it is this ridiculous looking robot, the one that seems as though it is made of boxes stacked up on top of more boxes with whisks for claws, but it sends waves of panic up Peter’s back. For a second, time seems frozen as the robot searches for Peter. Then, it’s beady red eyes narrow, probably because Peter is breathing so loudly with such terror that even someone halfway down the street could hear him.

Peter barely has time to attach himself to the opposite side of the lab and dodge one of the claws of the robot slashing toward his chest. “Not good, not good, not good!” Peter yells. Instead of hitting him, the claw gets caught on the edge of the building, glass crunching from the blow. He should feel bad for ruining the Smythe Industry building again, but technically Spencer is behind this attack.

The robot doesn’t spare a second. Peter feels something sharp and painful jam into his side. His grip fails him and he lands square on the chalkboards below. The little ear piece Peter uses to communicate with Ned splinters under the blow. “Shit,” Peter mutters. Peter looks up at the robot. It slashes it's whisk-like hands toward Peter, but he gets a web in the air, flips over and lands on the back of the robot. “Let’s channel _the Incredibles_ …” Peter mutters. He taps on the back of the robot’s head and then leaps off just as it’s claw whacks into itself. The robot stumbles a little bit, giving Peter enough time to attach a web to the staircase railing, get a running start and kick the robot in the chest. An echoing thud that sounds like a bomb going off results as the robot crashes onto the ground. Peter tries to think how one would go about destroying a robot. Back in the Ultron days, Black Widow would shoot it to pieces, the Hulk would probably eat it, Iron Man and Vision would blast it to pieces, so maybe channel Captain America and tear it apart?

Peter scrambles to get hold of one of the chalkboards. It isn’t very heavy and Peter gets a good footing underneath it. He’s watched enough discus throwing at track meets to know how to throw something heavy. Twirl, twirl, twirl and release! Peter watches the chalkboard soar across the room. The chalkboard isn’t nearly as strong compared to a vibranium shield, so it just dents the robot. However, Peter throws it hard enough for the robot to completely fall backwards. Its beady red eyes flash a couple of seconds. Then, it starts to dim.

It’s dead silent for a long second, and Peter is pretty confident the robot is done for. But what appears to be the truth normally ends up being dead wrong. Peter doesn’t think he’s hearing correctly, but he could have sworn something, or rather _someone_ , is clapping. “Very good, Spider-Man,” comes a leering, twisted voice. Footsteps follow, and then Peter sees Spencer Smythe,  standing at the balcony gazing down at the fallen robot and Spider-Man. He doesn’t appear startled or even scared. In his shadows is Alistair Smythe. Peter inhales a sharp breath. He thinks about jumping out one of the windows right now, break the glass and just leap to the building across the street, but he feels compelled to the stay frozen where he stands. “Somehow, I figured you would eventually find out we were behind the attacks.”

“Karen,” Peter whispers so quietly he’s sure Spencer and Alistair can’t hear him. “Voice modifier thing. Quick!”

“On it, Peter,” Karen says.

“Why are you building these robots?” Peter says in that unfamiliar, incredibly deep voice he used at the diner before. “Because if you’re that angry, I’m sure there’s a more diplomatic way to solve the problem that doesn’t involve spending robots after me.”

Spencer laughed. “I like the voice, even though I know it’s fake. I’ve been following you, Spider-Man. Trying to figure out your alter ego, at first. You see, when you destroyed my building, I knew it wasn’t on purpose. You were trying to save Manhattan… all I wanted was an apology and for you to tell us who you were really were. That would, at the very least, give us something to make sure you stay in line. But you did neither. And you didn’t do anything for the next year. I waited for that long for you to wise up and do what I asked. You didn’t. Instead, you join the Avengers, become a part of their malicious, violent determination to keep peace. Ironic, if you ask me?”

“What do you want, man? Why are sending these things after me?” Peter asks, kicking the leg of the fallen robot next to him.

“Because maybe you do something good by helping a group of kids jaywalk across the street, but you forget to think about the guy in the driver’s seat with the green light who you just made late to work. Or to the police officers who have been laid off now that the Amazing Spider-Man is too busy doing their jobs for them.” Spencer says. “You’re a menace! Catching armed robbers, stopping muggers… It’s police work. Queens can do without Spider-Man. They were doing fine without Spider-Man before and they could continue to be okay afterwards.”

Spencer is hardly threatening Peter, but a shiver runs up Peter’s back. “Do you want me to give up my suit? Stop helping New York with petty crime? Is that what you want?” Peter asks. “I could’ve let the Vulture get hold of all those Avenger prototypes and probably blow up the entire state of New York with them. I could just watch muggers beat someone to death because the cops are too slow to save him.”

“It’s not a matter of giving up the suit,” Smythe asks. “You had your chance to go peacefully.”

“Then what do you want?!” Peter yells.

“Your blood.”

Smythe holds up a small black box, and presses the red button in the center. At first, Peter stays frozen to the ground, unsure about what is going to come next. “You know, I don’t think that did—…” A sharp, agonizing _bring!_ of noise silenced Peter. It sounded like the cap to a tire valve had been removed and pressurized air is spewing out of the valve. Peter loses all sense of control as he throws his hands over his hands, biting down hard on his bottom lip to keep himself from screaming. Whatever Smythe did, the explosion that results is strong enough to make the entire building shake; Peter jerks from side to side and eventually flies backwards when he’s too focused on blocking out that painful noise than he is at keeping his own balance. A second later, the windows start to crack, light bulbs shatter. Something small lodges itself into Peter’s thigh and he yells out. When the noise stops, Peter still feels his ears ringing and his eyes watering with the pain. “What the hell did you just do?” Peter manages. His voice is hoarse but still too deep because of the voice modifier.

“When we sent the first robot after you,” Spencer starts, completely unfazed by what just happened, “we realized you were too powerful, _too strong_ for one of our simple-minded creatures so we built this lovely thing.” Smythe holds up the black box. “Your Spidey-Senses are gone. Your speed. Your strength. It would be like the real you fighting all of us…”

The ringing in Peter’s ears have yet to subside, so he has no idea if he heard Smythe correctly. His spidey-senses can’t just _be gone_. But before Peter can even  _try_ to process what Smythe is saying, the robot jerks around, as though someone is defibrillating it. Machines start whirring quietly, the eyes glow red again and, then, the robot nearly flies upwards. When the tingling doesn’t start up again in the back of Peter’s skull, he realizes something _is_ wrong. The robot picks up the splintered chalkboard beside it and hurls it toward Peter. He has enough time to get out of the way, just not in a graceful manner. Peter flails behind the nearest desk. He falls hard on his shoulder.

“What the hell?” Peter says.

No time to think. The desk under which Peter is hiding is lifted off the ground effortlessly. Once confirming where Peter is hiding, the robot drops the desk again. The split second is takes for the desk to drop, Peter doesn’t have the time to react, which is… _bad_. Very, _very_ bad. Excruciating pain explodes in Peter’s left leg as the desk drops on his thigh. The anguish is so mind-numbing, Peter hardly feels it when the robot grabs hold of Peter’s waist and throws him into the wall. Peter comes down on shattered glass and drywall. “Stop…” he begs. He isn’t even sure if Spencer or Alistair can hear his whisper through his mask. “K — Karen,” Peter barely manages. It feels like Peter is being stabbed over and over again as he tries to find the energy to finish his sentence. “Activate — activate panic…”

He doesn’t finish. He is jerked around, tossed, crushed, beaten, _broken_. Every part of his body is reeling. His brain isn’t functioning. Peter tries to think of ways to escape, to get a reprieve, but _nothing_.

The robot grips Peter in this awful, crushing grasp. It’s claws dig into Peter’s skin, and he lets out a low groan. Peter can tell he is being dragged toward the broken windows because he feel bits of glass scraping against his skin and the sudden cool air that whips Peter around. The floor level is so high up Peter can barely hear the sound of cars honking below. All the energy he has left is gone. And he feels the metal claw gripping onto Peter slacken and ringing in his ears as the robot drops him out the side of the building.

He can't think about ways to stop himself from falling. All he _can_ think about is Aunt May. _I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little note on the bomb Spencer Smythe uses. In the comics, Peter built this bomb to deactivate the spider-senses for the Spider-Slayers, but it also backfired on himself. I'm not sure how it happened. I just tweaked and manipulated that aspect of the comics for the purpose of the story.


	6. Being a Real Avenger

Chapter Six: Being a Real Avenger

Peter finds himself hunched over on a dimly-lit, alcohol-smelling, smoke-infested street. He is tying his left tennis shoe, over and over again, thoughtlessly. When he pulls away with the realization that his shoelaces are tied so tight it feels like it is squeezing the circulation from his foot, he straightens out and looks at his surroundings. Either side of the street he’s on is filled with broken-looking shops. Not the nicest place in town, Peter will admit. Graffiti is plastered on the brick walls, the glass of windows and doors are streaked with dirt, even some of the lit up signs are starting to go out. Peter knows something is wrong when almost all of the shops are closed and there isn’t a light on in the apartment buildings across the streets. _It’s New York_ , for godsakes. In urban areas like the one Peter is standing at, there is always light, _always_ someone awake. But right now, it's pitch black. It’s convenient that Peter is thinking about how dark the streets are, because as he thinks that, the streetlamps start flickering until one by one, the lights burn out. All except for one that illuminates a little green bench. Paint is chipped off, some of the wood looks pretty unsturdy.

It isn’t unoccupied… A man probably no older than forty or even fifty is perched at the bench, fingers pressed against his forehead in exasperation. His clothes looks worn and withered. There is a hole in the top corner of his blue sweater and the brown slacks he has on has creases in all the wrong places, like it’s been worn and used a few too many times. A backpack sits beside the man, a blue one that’s half opened because it looks as though the zipper is broken off. Peter feels his heart burst. He _knows_ that backpack. _No, no, no_ , Peter thinks to himself. _It can’t be_. The man looks up. His eyes are heavy, filled with tears, a few brimming out and trailing down his flushed cheeks and salt-and-pepper facial hair. He pushes his fingers through his messy brown hair. _Uncle Ben_. Peter spends a lot of his waking time trying to not think about his deceased uncle. About that night. And as Peter starts looking around the street, taking in the names of the restaurants and convenient stores, Peter opens his mouth to scream a warning. “Uncle Ben!” He yells. Peter sprints forward, across the street and down the sidewalk, “Uncle Ben, you need to run!”

Uncle Ben looks up. The familiar eyes of his dead uncle pierce into Peter’s, and he’s feel guiltier than ever. “Run from what?” Uncle Ben says. His voice is just as Peter remembers. Gruff and deep and stern, like a man who has tried to take the responsibility of the world onto his shoulders and has failed countless times with carrying the weight all on his own. “The damage is done…” Uncle Ben rotates just a little to reveal that the blue sweater is more than just in need of a nice patch-job. Crimson red blood is streaming down the front of his chest. It seeps through his clothes, spreading faster and faster across the blue fabric. In the center of the pool of blood is a small, gaping hole. A gunshot wound.

“No…” Peter whispers. His head spins.

“You could have saved me,” Uncle Ben whispers. He stands up from the bench, taking a step closer to Peter. Peter backs away, involuntary, the tears in his eyes burning his face. As Uncle Ben advances toward his nephew, his face twists into a dark glare, one that frightens Peter. “Why did you have to be such a stupid kid that day? Why do you always have to make everything so goddamn difficult on me?”

“Peter,” a softer voice emerges from the shadows. Peter looks over. Aunt May. She is wearing the same outfit she wore the day that Uncle Ben died: that small floral apron Peter and Ben got for her birthday and a black dress. Her makeup is streaked, hair disheveled, eyes red with tears and wrecked with pain. “Why did you have to run? Why did you have to run out of the house? I just asked you to do one simple thing and you threw a fit because you were just kid?!”

Ben falls suddenly, abruptly, and Peter tries to move but the words of his aunt and uncle leave him paralyzed. All he can do is watch May crumble onto the ground, body convulsing as she choked on sob after sob after sob. The scene changes. He’s in his apartment now. The police officers that first came to the scene of the drive-by shooting are standing in front of Peter. He’s shivering, the rain and the cold and the shock starting to set in. May’s face twists from relief, to confusion, to anguish as the cops relay the information of what happened to her husband. Peter tries to take Aunt May in his arms but she’s angry with him, screaming inaudible words, pushing Peter away. _It’s his fault. It’s his fault. Uncle Ben is dead because of him_ …

Chaos follows. Something rips apart the side of their apartment. One of the robots. It grabs hold of May, throwing her around as she kicks and screams and begs to die… Peter can only stand on the floor, as though pinned down by something, and _watch_. Alistair and Spencer Smythe are standing in his kitchen. They’re laughing. “You should have turned yourself in when you had the chance,” Spencer castigates. The guilt that follows twists up Peter’s back. His reacts, though, and that’s _good_. He gets up but very slowly, as though someone filled his body with boulders. He moves sluggishly, hand outstretched for May but never quite able to reach her.

Peter is pulled from the kitchen, and bright light replaces the darkness of his apartment. He immediately recognizes where he is standing: it’s a hallway at Midtown. He is standing in front of a display case where all the state championships for sports and even the Decathlon team are put on display. Peter recognizes the team picture from his sophomore year with Liz standing in front, smiling proudly as she holds the trophy. “Sad, isn’t it?” a feminine, sweet voice says. Peter looks over: Liz is standing next to him, wearing a pair of light blue jeans and baby pink sweater, the one that brings out her eye color. Her hair is pulled into a loose bun, strands of curly brown hair framing her delicate face. She’s just as pretty as Peter remembers. “I was so happy… So happy here with my friends and a future and nothing but a great life ahead of me. I was excited to go to homecoming with you, Peter.” She reaches forward and puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “We could’ve been so happy together.”

She doesn’t continue. Violent wind starts gushing around, shaking Peter back and forth, throwing Liz’s hair around her face. The lights start to fade and up above, the Vulture is swooping down to Peter, angry. “I should’ve told everyone who you really are!” Adrian Toomes scream.

“You ruined my life Peter. You took everything away from me…” Liz whispers.

“No, no,” Peter starts. “I — I didn’t… I didn’t know he was your dad and when I found out… I just wanted to do the right thing.” Peter’s voice cracks. He feels his legs giving out but he doesn’t fall to the ground like he expects.  Liz’s hands are wrapped around Peter and pulling him closer to her. That doesn’t make any sense. “What are you—”

“I’m just messing with you, Peter,” Liz says with absolute levity in her voice. She helps Peter got back to onto her feet. “Everything is totally okay. And congrats on winning the Decathlon this year. I’m _proud of you_! Why are you freaking out right now?” The lights are back now, the ground isn’t shaking anymore. It’s like all the happiness in the world has returned. The ghosts that haunted Peter in the previous images are disappearing, fading into the back of Peter’s mind and he can’t retrieve it anymore.

“I…” Peter looks over.

Adrian Toomes lands on the ground, the Vulture wings falling off him. He goes forward and shakes Peter’s hand. “You’re taking good care of my daughter, aren’t you?” Toomes laughs like Peter has never heard before. Like he really isn’t the Vulture, and like he doesn’t know that Peter is Spider-Man. That, or Toomes _does_ know about Peter’s secret identity. Only, he doesn’t care…

This can’t be real… _It’s like a dream_.

* * *

Peter gasps, sharply. He quickly realizes that even breathing hurts too much. “Where the hell…” He starts but he can’t muster up enough energy to finish his sentence. He can’t find a single part of his body that doesn’t hurt. It takes a couple of seconds for Peter’s eyes to adjust to the bright light but, as he does, he can see the outline of his leg slung into a thick cast underneath a rough, cotton blanket. Monitors are beeping. Machines are whirring. As he tries to sit up in what he realizes is a hospital bed, the pain in his back is too overbearing so he slumps back down. He takes a longer look at his surroundings. It doesn’t take Peter long to realize he isn’t just in any random New York facility. It’s too nice, and too private for some public hospital. There’s a massive flat screen TV in front of him, streaming classical music and beside him, the curtains are wide open, revealing that the entire left wall is completely glass, letting in the natural light and showing off the stunning field that stretches until it dumps into a forest. And if the quality of the hospital room didn’t give away where Peter is, the huge _A_ for Avengers emboldened underneath the hospital bed does. “God…” he whispers, bringing his fingers to temples. Even that hurts. He gets a good look at his arm and realizes nearly every part of his arm, all the way up to his fingers are bruised and broken.

“I’m sorry…” Someone whispers. Peter turns sharply — bad move. It’s Wanda. She is perched in a foldable chair beside the hospital bed, and Peter can tell she did that dream-thingy she did with Bucky just based off of Wanda’s withdrawn figure and this look of shame in her eyes. Because he’s been unconscious for who knows how long, Peter can’t help but wonder why she looks like so _exhausted_. “Some people don’t always like it when I do that. It’s just, your heart was rising and you were jerking around and—”

“It’s okay,” Peter interrupts. He has no idea if he is lying or telling the truth about that. While that invasion of privacy is meant to help, Peter doesn't like the idea that Wanda saw what he is dreaming of. It’s not just embarrassing that he still has dreams about his sophomore crush, but he doesn’t like the idea of another Avenger thinking that Peter can’t handle this job. The last thing Tony needs to know about (or really any Avenger since it isn’t hard for Peter to guess that no one is too glad a kid is the newest team member) is how scared Peter still is of the Vulture and of what happened with Ben and with what _could_ happen to May. It terrorizes him day in and day out, and Peter can’t stop _thinking_ about how much it would crush him if May died.

Just thinking about something happening to May makes his heart rate spike. “It’s just a dream,” Wanda says again. She stares at Peter for a long second, and he dreads the next question. “Who was the girl? And the older guy? N — not Vulture or the Smythes, I mean?” Face bright red, Peter can tell she’s embarrassed asking the question and, by the way that she looks away quickly, she feels guilty just asking.

“Can’t you answer that yourself?” Peter says.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

“No, no, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You were just trying to help before,” Peter says. “Uh, the girl was Liz. We went to Midtown together. I took her to homecoming last year — ish. The Vulture, Adrian Toomes, was her father. God, I ruined her life. I…” Peter bit down on his lip. “And the other guy was Uncle Ben…” Peter tries to keep the tears to himself, but they fall down his face, wet and hot and it stings the scraps on his cheeks and the busted, swollen lip he could just tell is there. “I — I don’t want to say out it loud… You can just see for yourself…”

Peter closes his eyes for a long second. It was two years before Peter became Spider-Man. He was only in seventh grade, and he was just having a bad day. He wanted to come home, relax, play video games, not think about how Flash pushed him, made fun of his shoes… May wanted him to do the dishes, and Peter didn’t. What started out as something that wasn’t very serious turned into a bloodbath. Uncle Ben came home to a screaming and crying and rageful May and Peter, and it ended with Peter running out the door. Peter wasn’t going anywhere particular. He just kept running and running. He only stopped when he passed a little ice cream and bought himself an ice cream, but at the point he found himself in a location that he didn’t recognize, and he didn’t have nearly enough to get back to the apartment. Swallowing his pride, Peter called Aunt May and Uncle Ben, apologized and asked for them to pick him up. Little did Peter know that the ice cream place he was waiting at is a front for gangs. The police didn’t know, either, not until the drive-by shooting that killed the owner of the ice cream store and that killed Uncle Ben. The guilt of knowing Uncle Ben died because Peter overreacted after a terrible day kills Peter every time he thinks of it. Peter thought Aunt May was going to hate him, but she was… she was everything Peter needed. She was a beacon of hope and happiness, always putting Peter’s needs first. The fact that she was tearing herself apart to make Peter safe only makes him feel worse.

Peter’s thoughts are interrupted when he hears the soft sound of a quiet sniffle. Tears are streaming down Wanda’s face. “I didn’t realize it was that sad of a story…” Peter jokes, though there is no laughter in his voice.

Wanda dabs at her face quickly. “It’s not just the story…” her voice cracks. Keeping her gaze away from Peter, she takes a deep breath. “The thing about these powers, when I delve deep into someone’s mind, I can _feel_ what they’re thinking. Before, especially when I worked with Ultron, I used to be really good at blocking it out. When I picked apart the Avengers, and let’s not pretend I didn’t do that, I could see what they saw. I never understood Thor’s, but Steve, I understood his lack of belonging. His understanding that he’s a fish out of water. That he doesn’t have a family. That he doesn’t have a home… And Nat’s guilt. And Tony’s despair. And Bruce’s… It’s not just that. The mission in Lagos, I could feel the fear and anger and anguish all at once. I wish I could block it out again, but it’s not that easy. Guess becoming an Avenger gives your a conscience.”

 _Holy shit_ is the only thing that accurately sums about Peter’s reaction. How the hell can one person _survive_ under those kinds of living conditions? The guilt and pain Peter feels when he thinks about Uncle Ben is enough to immobilize him. Yet Wanda has to function while dealing with her own guilt, which is only intensified by feeling everyone else’s _pain_.

“How do you survive?” Peter asks.

Wanda just shrugs. “By knowing that there are people out there whose lives I’ve managed to save. Helps balance the scale. Makes the pain more bearable.”

There’s a long, dreadful pause. “So, what happened after… you know, after I almost got thrown off the side of the building?” Peter asks. That question doesn’t quite do Peter’s curiosity justice. “Did the panic-mode button actually work?”

“No, uh, we were already on our way over by the time your suit alerted us you were in trouble,” Wanda explains. “Your friend, _Ned_ , I think he said his name was, had all of our numbers programmed into his phone. He sent out a mass text that you were in danger. Stark’s private jet is fast, but if your friend hadn’t warned us when he did, you would have been dead. You’re _lucky_ we got there in time.”

Peter bites down on his lip, making a mental note to thank Ned the next time Peter sees him. Though Peter is curious as to why Ned has all the Avenger’s numbers programmed into his phone, that can be a conversation saved for a later time. “Who came?” Peter asks. He figures Tony was there and most likely Wanda since she seems pretty well informed about what happened, but Peter isn’t too excited at the thought of any of the other Avengers coming to save him. Not Cap, Sam or Bucky. Maybe Peter is being ridiculous but he doesn’t particularly like the Avengers coming to his rescue in the first real Spider-Man mission since the Vulture.

“Everyone,” Wanda says. Peter winces. _Even worse_. “We weren’t sure how big of a fight it was gonna be, and Tony and Steve didn’t want to risk losing anyone… especially you. We got to the scene right around the time that robot was throwing you out the building. Like I said, you’re lucky we showed up when we did. I kept you suspended in the air until Sam could pull you into the Quinjet. Tony and Vision took care of the robot while Nat, Bucky and Steve tried to apprehend Alistair and Spencer Smythe. They were _pretty_ surprised when the Avengers paid them a visit.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. _Tried_ to apprehend?” Peter repeated. Wanda looks away sheepishly, and that makes Peter’s heart start racing. “You mean they got away?! I thought you said the entire team came!”

“Look, there were more than just one Spider-Slayer!”

Peter raises his eyebrows. “More than one what?! What’s a Spider-Slayer?”

Wanda couldn’t help but chuckle lightly. “You can thank the media for that lovely nickname. Stark made a statement yesterday about what happened and he said something about these robots being bred to kill you so… hence the name Spider-Slayer. Anyway, no one was hurt, except for you.”

“How bad am I?” Peter asks.

The smile fades from her lips and she turns to glower at Peter. “Bad enough,” she says. “ _Shattered_  leg, concussion, an incredible amount of internal bleeding, bruised lungs, at least twenty stitches in various locations, several broken or fractured ribs, minor spine injury.” Peter really doubted a spine injury could be minor. “You’re lucky that spider-bite means you heal fast and not damage easily otherwise you’d be dead or paralyzed.”

Peter doesn’t let that bother him. He doesn’t want to let himself think about how awful things could have been if Ned didn’t call for help. “There was this bomb,” he said, changing the subject, “and my spidey-senses—”

“We know,” Wanda interrupts. “Fortunately, you were lucid enough on the quinjet to let us know some bomb trashed your senses. We gave you a jump start. Don’t worry about it.”

“What does that mean? Jump start?” Peter asks, raising his eyebrows.

“We defibrillated you, Peter. Shocked your senses awake,” she says.

“What the hell does that mean?” Peter whispers. “You… how — how do you know it worked?” Wanda chuckles. Without speaking, she levitates a glass of water from across the room, floats it toward Peter and then drops it beside Peter’s bed. He catches it in the blink of an eye. “Awesome,” Peter says, “and ow.” Pain erupts from Peter’s fingers to his elbow.

“Sorry. Guess I didn’t think that through,” Wanda admits. “Thankfully, the defibrillator worked so your healing sped up. You’ve only been here for a couple of days.”

“What?!” Peter gasps, utterly shocked. “How — how — how long have I been here?”

“You were passed out all day Sunday and most of today,” Wanda says.

Peter feels his heart stop and melt into the pit of his stomach. “Oh shit!” He exclaims. Peter jerks around in his bed, trying to both find his clothes _and_ ignore how _awful_ it feels to move around this fast. “May is probably freaking out and today is a school day. I can’t keep missing—”

“Peter. Peter!” Wanda says.

He ignores her. “No, you don’t understand—” Peter is trying hard to get out of his bed, but the IVs are persistent and it hurts too much for Peter to pull them out. “Get me out of here! Where are my pants?!”

“Peter!” Wanda exclaims. Peter feels invisible hands pushing Peter back into his bed and holding him there completely still. “Sorry,” she quickly says. “It’s just… we took care of it. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

“You took care of it?” Peter says. He lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I owe you—”

“ _I_ didn’t do anything,” Wanda says. Her faces darkens, the smile slipping from her face. “I think it’s time for me to leave.”

“What? Why? What’s going on?” Peter asks.

Wanda doesn’t take the time to explain. She gets up, pushes the chair against the wall and then walks out the door. It never shuts though, and Peter realizes why Wanda left so abruptly. Tony, Steve and Natasha come barging in before the door even shuts. And Tony looks thoroughly pissed, like Peter has never seen before. Not like when Tony had to clean up Peter’s mess at the ferry. Not when Peter accidentally revealed his identity to Aunt May. Nothing can be accurately compared to now. Tony’s face is red before he’s even opened his mouth. Steve and Natasha are trailing behind him. When Peter sees that even Natasha is being careful to not make eye contact with him, Peter knows that Tony is about hand him his ass.

“Well, it’s to my understanding that Wanda caught you all up to speed, yes?” Tony says. Peter can tell Tony is trying to keep his volume in check.

Peter nods. “Uh, yeah…”

“Good. Then I can fill you in on what I’ve done while you’ve been _unconscious_ ,” Tony says. “Starting with what I did after we saved your ass from falling out of a building. I had to give a very-not-so-fun phone call to your very-not-so-happy aunt. It was hard enough having to explain to her why you won’t be home for the next few days. What if I had to explain to her why her little boy won’t be coming home _for the rest of her life?!”_ The volume of Tony’s voice rises. His face gets redder and redder, and he takes this terrifying step toward Peter until Tony is glaring down at him. “Forget about how terrified the rest of us were. Think about her. I know you understand how much it would destroy her if you died…”

Peter actively avoids thinking about Aunt May. He'll put that fire out later. Right now, he needs to focus on getting Tony off his ass. “It’ll be okay,” he says. “I’ll talk to May. She’ll understand.”

“Will she? Because we were having a very nice conversation, after she finished calling me every nasty name in the book, about how it’s time you stop being Spider-Man. At least for a little bit. It’ll give you some time to think about how terrible of a decision you just made the other night,” Tony says.

Those words cut deep, but Peter expected this. “So this is the opportunity you’ve been waiting for to kick me off the team?”

“Peter, it’s not that black and white,” Natasha starts. Her voice is calm and she’s looking at Peter, more concerned than angry. Peter is confident she’s just putting up a front because Tony is angry enough for the three of them.

Steve takes a step forward. “You should have called us Peter. We’re your team. We would have helped.”

Of course Mr. Captain America has to be the diplomatic one. His words make Peter feel a little guilty and a little stupid, too. That just makes him angrier. “Really? We’re a team, huh?” Peter yells. God, if he wasn’t stuck in bed, he’d be staring down the three of them. “You’ve never asked me to be a part of the team! You shut me out! You never even gave me a chance! If you three thought I was a real Avenger, you wouldn’t have abandoned me like this!”

Tony’s face twists from an angry expression to a look of disbelief. “You’d risk your life, you were willing to put your aunt through _hell_ , because you feel _left out_? This isn’t some bad day in high school where the cool kids don’t ask you to sit with them! You don’t know half of what it likes to be a _real_ Avenger.”

“Then show me,” Peter challenges.

Tony stares at Peter for a long second. Behind the anger and shock, Peter can see Tony fighting back the urge to say something truly awful. Tony takes a deep breath and then turns to Steve and Natasha. “Bring Helen Cho in. I want to see if Peter can be prepped for a short little flight.” Tony says. He stares at Peter for a long second, a mix of disappointment and bitterness in his eyes before leaving the hospital room.

“Tony!” Steve says, looking exasperated. “Get some rest, Peter,” he commands, before leading Natasha outside.

Peter stares at the doorway for a long second, absolutely indignant. When is Tony ever going to trust Peter enough to go on a _real_ Avengers mission? It’s not fair for Tony to expect Peter to understand the ins and outs of being an Avenger if Tony never lets him! Peter really wishes Tony was still in the hospital room, since there’s still a lot more Peter wants to say to him, such as why Tony even offered Peter the spot if he wasn’t going to be brought on real missions, and why Tony designed such a badass suit if he didn’t want Peter to use it.

A second later, Helen Cho, a young and scary intelligent doctor, comes marching into his hospital room, followed by a couple other doctors or nurses in labcoats. He only met Dr. Cho once: she was visiting the new Avengers Compound and was working with Tony to set up the hospital here. Peter was still setting up his bedroom so they crossed paths. To be completely honest, Peter is pretty impressed with her work, specifically with her cradle thing, the one that practically built Vision. It’s hard not be both impressed and intimidated by someone of her professional skill. On a personal level, however, Helen Cho is far from intimidating. Unlike the other Avengers, Helen Cho finds Peter very brave and very capable, especially when she found out about his age.

“Hello Peter,” Dr. Cho says. She helps ease the hospital gown up just slightly so that she can examine his broken leg. “Doesn’t look too bad. You’re very lucky. An assault of this magnitude would have most likely killed a normal boy, but alas, you are _far_ from normal.” After glancing over her clipboard, she starts examining the other bandages and stitches around Peter’s ribs.

“That’s what people keep telling me,” Peter says.

“You should be very thankful for Mr. Stark and the others,” Dr. Cho says. It isn’t supposed to be in a disapproving or scolding way, but after the brutal reprimand from Tony, it’s hard not to feel a little offended. Peter knows Dr. Cho didn’t mean anything by it, however, so he bites down on his bottom lip to keep himself from saying anything too snappish. “Does this hurt?” She asks, pressing her fingers lightly against Peter’s rib.

He just barely winces. “A little,” he admits.

She smiles. “That’s very normal. Here.” Dr. Cho hands Peter two blue capsules. “It’ll help with the pain, not that you’re going to need to take these for very long.” Peter swallows down the two capsules and chases it down with some water.

“How long until I can leave?” Peter asks. “Or at least not be bed-ridden?”

“A couple more days. The bones in your leg were practically shattered so that’ll take the longest,” Dr. Cho explains. _Fan-freaking-tastic._ Just one more thing for Peter to have to explain to everyone at school. “Mr. Stark wants to take you on a little trip, but I don’t think you’re quite ready.”

“Little trip where?” Peter asks. Definitely not too anything life threatening. Mr. Stark would never want Peter to do _anything_ exciting.

Helen Cho just shrugs. “I’m not sure, and right now you shouldn’t be worried about that, either. You need to get some rest.”

Sleeping does sound appealing, even though Peter has been passed out for the last couple of days. He doesn’t argue when Helen Cho helps Peter get into a comfortable spot on his bed, turns the TV on to some action movie and hands him his cell phone. Peter glances at his messages and groans when he sees how many missed calls he’s received. As he scrolls up and down through the old texts and calls, he finds it strikingly odd that it’s mostly been Ned trying to figure out what’s going on with Peter. Other than a frantic text from May Saturday night, she has yet to try to contact him. That freaks out Peter. Is she _that_ angry with him? Peter tries calling May but she doesn’t respond. Even more alarming. Hoping that she might be at work, Peter calls Ned.

“Peter?!” Ned yells into the phone.

“Hey man…” Peter says sheepishly.

The moment Peter confirms that he is in fact the person calling Ned, Ned goes crazy. “Dude, what the hell happened?! Our comms went haywire and I started freaking out so I called all the Avengers, and they weren’t very happy that some random guy was calling them and then…” This goes on for another few minutes; Peter has to admit that he is constantly impressed with how many words Ned can shove into one breath of air. Ned’s monologue finally culminates with Ned saying, “And then I got a call from Tony Stark — _the Tony Stark!_ — that you were okay. How awesome is that?!”

“Very awesome…” Peter says, even though he doesn’t quite find Tony Stark to be the most exciting and awesome person at the moment. “Dude,” Peter starts now that Ned is finished talking, “I really can’t thank you enough for calling the Avengers. You _really_ saved my ass out there.”

“Come on. That’s what the guy in the chair is for!” Ned says. Peter has this warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach, a clear sign of how genuinely pleased he is to have a friend like Ned around. There aren’t enough words in the dictionary to explain how in debt Peter is for his guy in the chair. Just like last year, Ned proved to Peter that being the hero doesn’t always mean being the one with cool powers.

Peter and Ned catch up for another fifteen minutes until Helen Cho, who could hear Peter talking from down the hall, demands that Peter at least try to get some rest. Reluctantly, Peter hangs up his phone, thanking Ned one last time, and then tries to focus on whatever movie is playing on the TV. He doesn’t have to stay awake for very long because before he knows it, it’s Tuesday.

Tuesday and Wednesday are just as long and boring as Monday. Dr. Cho and Steve don’t let Peter leave the hospital bed except for when Peter needs to use the restroom or take a shower (both are very embarrassing and, despite him insisting that he doesn’t need anyone’s help, Steve and Bucky don’t listen to him). While Mr. Stark has yet to come see Peter since their fight on Monday and May has only communicated with Peter after he texted her twenty times, he doesn’t feel completely alone. Peter and Ned facetime a lot. Ned tells Peter about the homework and pop quizzes he missed, and how he and May spread around Midtown that Peter was pretty badly injured in a mugging on the way to the Stark Towers so he’s at Mr. Stark’s private hospital still recovering. Other than Ned, Wanda visits Peter the most, bringing him meals, watching movies with him and keeping him updated on how the Spencer/Alistair Smythe tracking has been.

Despite how angry Tony is with Peter, Tony is even angrier with Spencer and Alistair Smythe for their attempt on Peter’s life. He and FRIDAY have been working plenty hard to track Spencer and Alistair Smythe. They’ve been looking at nearly every open video camera in New York to see if they can get a hit on facial recognition, not to mention the Department of Damage Control has completely taken over Smythe Industries. No employee can enter or exit without being thoroughly questioned to see if they have had any contact with the Smythes. That being said, Mr. Stark hasn’t found much.

The next time Peter sees Tony is Thursday. He and Helen Cho come into Peter’s room early that morning, bringing along a tray of eggs and bacon. Surprised that Tony is actually coming to pay Peter a visit, Peter quickly realizes it isn’t because Tony wants to apologize. Helen Cho is halfway through Peter’s exam when Tony asks, impatiently, “Is he good enough to travel?”

Dr. Cho doesn’t answer immediately. She presses her fingers against Peter’s ribs, takes another x-ray of Peter’s leg (now it just looks like a regular break thanks to his accelerated healing) and then nods slowly. “Yes, he does look fine.”

“Awesome,” Tony says. “Let’s get him some crunches and get him moving.”

Helen Cho looks skeptical but she doesn’t argue. When Peter finishes his breakfast, Dr. Cho helps Peter with his crunches before she escorts the two Avengers outside. As Peter walks, he passes Sam, Bucky and Nat, all three of whom turn to look at Peter. Peter just barely catches a glimpse of their expressions: twisted with uneasiness and pity. Peter will never know for sure if Tony told those three where he was taking Peter, but if they do know where Peter and Tony are going, it can’t be good.

Outside, the quinjet is waiting on the landing pavilion. Peter has only seen photos of the Quinjet, and even then, the photos are blurry and captured by paparazzi. Being able to see it up close, the vast wings, the beautiful interior leather seats and the stunning technology, Peter can’t help but be a little dumbfounded. It kind of sucks that the first time Peter gets to fly on the Quintet isn’t because of an Avengers mission; it’s because Tony Stark is going all angry-Avenger-dad on Peter.

The flight is a mix of crazy smooth and pretty freaking dope, but also incredibly awkward and disappointingly short. Tony helps Peter into a seat before taking a seat in the cockpit. Peter tries to picture where the two of them are going. Peter just imagines that Tony is dropping Peter off back at home… But if that is the case, Tony would have told Peter. It can’t be dangerous, that’s for sure. Tony wouldn’t bring Peter if there was going to be any action happening. Peter spends the entire twenty five minute flight guessing where they were going.

When it’s time to land, the quinjet dips down low and Peter cringes as the altitude rapidly drops. The quinjet lands shakily onto the grassy field. With Tony’s help, Peter eases himself off of his seat and grabs the crunches from Tony’s outstretched hand. They still haven’t said a word to each other, not much more beyond the little formalities they exchanged when they first got on the quinjet. Still, Tony helps Peter off the quinjet. It’s a breath of fresh air when Peter steps outside. He smells freshly mown grass and flowers. There’s an American flag hanging in the garden in front of a massive marble building with beautiful pillars and stunning molding. But something seems wrong. For a building that looks this nice, it’s _empty_ , lifeless. As Peter makes his way to the front door of the building, the crutches hitting against the asphalt echo in the silence. Tony is looking straight ahead, and more serious than Peter expects.

“Where are we?” Peter asks.

“A memorial,” Tony whispers.

He holds the front door open and leads it inside. There is no one else that Peter can hear or see in the building. They step over the threshold, into a small, crunched together hallway. Peter looks to the side and reads in block letters the sentence: _May the fallen have peace that the living has yet to retain_. The meaning behind the sentence could be a variety of things, but Peter didn’t want to dwell on that. He follows Tony into the main hall, bright lights beaming down on him. In the main foyer, the walls shoot up at least twenty feet high, small, evenly spaced words engraved into the wall. Standing in the center of this first room is a small wreath with roses on it. Underneath a plaque reads: _Remembering Manhattan_.

“Tony…” Peter mutters. “What am I looking at?”

“You’re looking at what it really means to be an Avenger,” Tony says, quietly.  “I financed this memorial after the civil war. Thanks to the Department of Damage Control, we have lists of every single person who was _murdered_ while we were doing our goddamn jobs…”

Peter already put together that these people were killed but hearing Tony say it out loud with bitter resentment and hatred, not toward Ultron or Zemo or Loki, but toward himself made Peter’s heart wrench. Peter looks back at the memorial, eyes trailing off the small engraved names. _Michelle Y. Coons. Taylor Elizabeth Fitz. Edward Nguyen._ Families. Kids. Moms. Grandparents. Teenagers. Peter stares at the walls that seem to stretch for miles. An endless list of people whose lives were cut short because of the Avengers.

“This is just the people who were killed during the attack in Manhattan. There are other rooms, of course. One for Ultron’s era. Another memorializing all the people that _I_ killed. One for the D.C. attack when Captain America took down Hydra. The list goes on and on and on, Peter, and that’s the thing. _It’s never going to end_ ,” Tony snaps. Peter can feel Tony’s eyes burning into Peter’s profile, so the young Avenger tries hard to ignore Tony’s eye contact. “You want to be an Avenger? Then one of these days, you’re gonna get your own room in here, Peter. A list of everyone who’s death is on your shoulder! Jesus, we shouldn’t even be called Avengers. We should be called _killers,_  because that’s what we are. Nat and Bucky and Clint were assassins. Steve and Sam were in the army! Wanda set off a bomb in a hospital at Lagos and unleashed the Hulk that decimated an entire village! And she and Bruce can’t go a day without someone saying how much of a monster they are, or them thinking that of themselves! My weapons alone have killed thousands, not to mention how much damage I do when I’m taking names and kicking ass. How many people have you killed, Peter?”

There’s a long moment of silence, and Peter can’t tell if he’s supposed to answer Tony’s question. Peter ignores him anyway. His brain is stuck staring at the list of names, and he feels tears fill his eyes. How many people lost their families because of the Avengers? How many children became orphans?

“You’re not a killer, Peter. Hell, you went back into a burning pile of shit to get the Vulture after he tried to _kill you._ The rest of us would have just laid down and waited for someone to come pick us! You are not Avenging material, and that’s something you should be _proud of,_ ” Tony whispers. His voice cracks slightly at the end. Peter turns to look at the man who Peter has idolized for practically all of his life. Always thinking of Tony as being this unbelievably strong-willed and resilient Avenger, it shocked Peter to see his oldest mentor with tears in his eyes. “I don’t know which one will be worse: seeing your name on one of these walls or knowing that you put people here… All because I let you be an Avenger.”

It all made sense to Peter now. Why Tony is always so persistent on making sure Peter has backup if he needs it. Why Tony wants the more powerful Avengers — Vision, Scarlet Witch, even _himself_ — to be readily available to ‘assist’ Peter, or rather just do Peter’s job for him. Why Tony doesn’t bring Peter on missions. Peter doesn’t know how to feel. Because, for once in his life, Peter has doubts about being an Avenger. Real doubts. This dream of his for so long, these people who Peter have admired for years, _this image_ of the Avengers has been tarnished permanently.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. So school is starting, which means I won't be able to post as frequently (which is why I've been posting as often as I have been).
> 
> But, whenever I do have some free time, I'll try to get some writing done :)


	7. How (Not) to Speak to Girls 101

Chapter Seven: How (Not) to Speak to Girls 101

Peter can feel the tears in his eyes as he tries to think clearly. _Don’t read the names. Don’t think about the lives_ _lost_ , he tells himself. Swallowing down his pain and guilt, even though Peter is fully aware that he had nothing to do with the Manhattan Attack, he turns to look at Tony. “Why did you ask me to be an Avenger then?” Peter whispers. His voice is so hoarse and wrung with emotion that he would be surprised if Tony could even hear him. Maybe now would be selfish to turn the attention from such tragic, senseless deaths to Peter’s own desire to learn the truth from Tony, but Peter couldn’t help himself.

Despite speaking quietly, Tony still hears Peter. “I…” Tony doesn’t make a conscience effort to look at Peter when he responds.

“If you didn’t want me to learn the ugly truth about being an Avenger, why did you give me the choice to become one?!” Peter says. He tries to keep himself from yelling, especially because he’s in a memorial, but rage is filling Peter’s chest rapidly.

“I was so scared you would do something stupid if I didn’t let you become one!” Tony says. He spits the words out suddenly, and then looks away.

Peter bites down on his lip, uneasily. “What?” he gasps.

“You were running around your sophomore year practically killing yourself against the Vulture with absolutely no one to help you and I just thought if I gave you a spot on the team, it would be different. _You would be safer_ with a team!” Tony admits. “That’s why I didn’t call you on any of the Avengers mission… I could keep you happy by giving you a spot on the team, but make sure you don’t put yourself into any extreme danger. Obviously it backfired when you went on the lamb and attacked Smythe Industries.”

At first, Peter is at a loss of words. Sideline Peter on purpose to protect him? Make him an Avenger just to make sure Peter doesn’t go too crazy?

“I’m sorry, and I hate apologizing so you better enjoy this and not interrupt,” Tony finally says. That surprises Peter the most. Normally Tony is pretty stubborn when he comes to Peter’s safety so admitting he’s made a mistake is a big deal. “I just didn’t want you to become another one of the Avengers. I thought I was doing the right thing with you but obviously, I was wrong. So I’ll stop. You can become an Avenger now — a real one.”

Peter waits for a long second to see if Tony is just messing with him. The offer sounds enticing. _The chance to become an Avenger! The chance to fight with the team!_ But… Peter isn’t okay with all the deaths. He _knows_ it’ll crush him to pieces with _one person_ getting a simple broken bone. He doesn't want the people dead to just become a list on a wall, forgotten by those who put him there. He knows the Avengers care about those who died, but Peter wants to _show_ how much he cares. He wants to be different than the other Avengers. _Better._

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this yet,” Peter whispers, looking at the names on the wall again.

Tony nods. “I know,” he whispers. “I hated the idea of recruiting a fourteen year old. You did your job beautifully during the civil war but I never thought it would lead to you becoming a real Avenger. _I didn’t want you to be put in danger_.” Tony takes a step closer to Peter and, despite the previous feelings of overwhelming anger, it feels as though they never fought. He puts a gentle hand on Peter’s shoulder. “This is my fault, Peter. You, the shattered leg, the spine injury. It’s my fault…”

Originally thinking taking Peter to the memorial is just a ploy for Tony to scare Peter out of being an Avenger, the fact that this conversation has evolved into an apology leaves Peter stunned. “No, no, it’s not. I — I should have called you before the Smythe attack. Everything would have been easier if I had done that… Can — can we just establish that I should stop trying to do everything without you and you should stop trying to keep me out of the loop on everything.”

Tony nods. “Yeah, okay, I guess I could work with that idea. Now, let’s, let’s hash this out…” Tony says.

He gives Peter this half-hearted hug that ends with both of them feeling a little uncomfortable. Both are eager to leave the memorial afterwards so they sign their names by the front door and get back into the Quinjet. Tony gives Peter some more painkillers and a protein bar for the flight back. The quinjet has to fly back at the compound where Happy is already waiting by a car out front. Finding out that Tony is taking Peter back home _right now_ , scares the living hell out of Peter. May has been fielding Peter’s calls for a reason, and it surely can’t be a good reason. However angry she might be, there’s no way that she could be so angry with Peter to _ignore him_.

When Tony stops in front of Peter’s apartment, Peter feels as though his feet are glued to the floor of Tony’s car. He can see his apartment window from where the car is parked: the light is still on and Peter can barely see May moving around in the kitchen. She’s awake, which means an inevitable and awful fight will happen tonight. At least it’ll be over soon so Peter doesn’t have to think about it for too long.

“I’ll call you if we find anything about Spencer and Ned Smythe,” Tony promises. He pats Peter on the shoulder. “Do you need me to walk you to your apartment?”

Peter shakes his head, quickly. He tries to picture how pissed off May will be when she sees Tony Stark standing behind Peter. “Maybe just help me out of the car,” he says. Tony doesn’t argue. He gets out of the car quickly, open its up and grabs Peter out by his shoulders. Once Peter has a good grip on the crutches, Peter fumbles around for his apartment key, but he can’t find it. "Do you have my apartment key?"

Tony shakes his head. "We didn't find anything like that," Tony says.

Sighing, Peter buzzes the door. There’s no answer. Peter tries to buzz the door again before pressing the button to the intercom. “May, I know you’re mad but please let me in. Come on, I got nowhere else to go and you know that.”

There’s a long pause and for a split second, Peter is convinced May really is going to leave him stranded outside. Then, Peter hears a loud _zzz_. The door to the apartment unlocks itself and Peter awkwardly clambers over the threshold. The landlord stares at Peter for a long second, probably because of that cliched mugger story May and Ned spread around, but Peter darts away so quickly, there is simply no time for badgering. Up the elevator, away from the nosy neighbors and to the doorway. Again, no key so Peter taps on the door uncomfortably.

_Stay calm_ , Peter reassures himself. _She’s family. She loves you…_ It feels like a repeat of Uncle Ben. _I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so stupid._ Only it’s not Uncle Ben’s death. It isn’t seventh grade. Peter is no longer that gangly, awkward kid (he’s a bigger, stronger awkward kid). This is different. This isn’t the same. It’s —

May yanks the door open. Peter can practically feel his heart split into two as he takes in May’s appearance. It was the same apron, the one she wore when she answered the door to discover Uncle Ben was killed. It feels too familiar, and Peter _hates_ it. Her hair, clearly unwashed, skin looking extremely pale, with splotches of red across her watery, veiny eyes and cheeks. She looks at Peter for a long second, opens her mouth slightly but then shakes her head and walks back into the kitchen. The door is still wide open, so Peter staggers inside. Based on the way the dishes have started to pile up, it is evident May is taking Peter’s time at the Stark Tower’s poorly.

Speaking of the state of the kitchen, the moment Peter awkwardly shuts the door behind him, May pulls the dishwasher open and starts loading — _not loading_ — nearly throwing the dishes into place. Peter rubs the back of his neck, uncomfortably. “May…” he starts.

“Are you hungry?” she interrupts. The dishes aren’t finished, but she turns to the fridge, stampeding her way over, and then thrusting the door open.

“Uh, May, I’m…” Peter starts.

May ignores him. She’s rummaging through the refrigerator. “What do you want?” May asks. “We have leftover spaghetti, soup, hotdogs, some frozen pizza? What sounds good?” Peter doesn’t even get the chance to respond. “You’re a growing teenage boy. You’re — you’re Spider-Man. You probably want all of it, right?” She pulls out a tupperware container of spaghetti sauce and the leftover pizza from the fridge.

Peter can see the tears rapidly filling up May’s eyes as she pulls the tupperware container open and starts tossing spaghetti onto a ceramic plate. That terrible, gut-wrenching feeling of guilt seeps through Peter’s veins. “May, May, why don’t you sit down?” Peter says. He limps over to where May is standing and puts his hand lightly on her shoulder. “I — I can do this.”

She stops and turns to _glare_ at Peter, enough to make Peter take a step back. “How? With your broken leg — not broken, _shattered_ leg? And minor concussion? And spinal injury? H — how do you think you’re going to be able to do _anything_?” She turns back to the plate of spaghetti.

Wrong path. “May, please. You look like you need some sleep. I can take care—”

“ _Take care of yourself?!”_ Worse path. May throws the fork onto the ground, violently. Tears are now freely dripping from her eyes, mascara smearing across her red cheeks. “Like you could take of yourself at this stupid Smythe Industries place?! Well, that’s fantastic, Peter! And no, you _cannot take care of yourself_ because you’re just a child! You’re sixteen! You aren’t — you aren’t an adult! You aren’t Iron Man. You aren’t Captain America! You aren’t Uncle Ben! You’re my kid! You’re _the only thing I have!”_

May stops herself with a terrible, broken sob. She bends over the plate of spaghetti, wiping her cheeks briskly. Suffice to stay, Peter feels terrible. He leans his crutches against the kitchen counter, grabs hold of May’s shoulders and pulls her into a hug. Peter can feel her try to get away but Peter doesn’t even have to break a sweat to keep her in his grasp. At first, May hates it. She fights and she cries harder. Peter doesn’t let up, however, and eventually, she eases herself into Peter’s grasp.

“I’m sorry,” Peter says, though that doesn’t mean _anything_ right now. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have — I should have thought about you. I’m sorry.”

May sniffles. “You can’t leave me, Peter. You’re all I have…”

“I know,” Peter says. “I know, and I’m sorry—”

“You can’t leave me like Uncle Ben. I don’t want to…”

“ _I won’t_ ,” Peter says, firmly.

May takes a long, shaky breath. She wipes her tear-stained cheeks and runny nose with a paper towel before turning to the spaghetti thrown onto the plate. She smiles glumly. “Are you sure you still want this? We can order Chinese? Go out? Is there something you want?”

Peter shakes his head. “No, no. Let’s have something homemade. I’m always in the mood for your cooking. Do you want me to help?”

May shakes her head. “You need to go sit down. Rest. You can barely stand,” May insists. She helps Peter to the kitchen table where she settles him into the chair. May wipes her cheeks again and then goes back to heat up the leftover food. When May is finished heating up the other food, she sets nearly three plates full of food in front of him. She sits down beside him.

“Thanks,” Peter says, quietly. He takes hold of a fork and starts digging into the pizza, spaghetti and salad. As he devours his food, realizing quickly how utterly _starved_ he is, he feels his problems slowly slipping away. May brushes Peter’s forehead lightly. “Your food is always so good…”

Peter and May don’t talk for the rest of dinner, but not out of anger at the very least. Still, the tension hasn’t gone away yet. It is clear that May is trying hard to avoid Peter’s eye contact. So once Peter is finished eating, he clears the table quickly and starts loading the dishes. He glances out of the corner of his eye to see May still perched at the table, pressing her hands to her forehead.

“May?” Peter says once he finishes loading the dishes. He goes to sit down beside May, very nervously. “Is everything alright?”

She nods. “I love you, Peter, you know that right?” She says after a long second.

_Uh oh_. Nothing good comes from Aunt May’s mouth when she starts her sentences with  _I love you, Peter,_ in the middle of an argument. Peter tries to act nonchalant. “Yeah, of course. I love you too, May…” he tries.

“And I know how much being Spider-Man means to you—”

Peter is afraid of the conversation turning to this aspect. “May…” Peter starts. “I don’t want to fight with you—”

She holds her hands up, which immediately stops Peter. “I don’t wanna fight with you either, so I’m not going to. Spider-Man is obviously very important and me trying to tell you that you need to give the suit back and this whole Avengers thing is over will only make you go behind my back like you did all of last year. I’m sure you wouldn’t want that and you _know_ I don’t want that. So I’m not gonna make you give up that suit, even though I kind of want you to,” May rambles. She shakes her head and sighs. “Look, I’m worried about you, Peter… I don’t think you should be surprised about that. All I ask is that if you do anything _remotely_ dangerous, you don’t go in there without Tony — or _whoever_ …”

Peter stares at May for a long second. _That_ wasn’t that bad of a request from May, especially when Peter has envisioned the worst case scenario over and over again. “Uh yeah, of course, of course. You have nothing to worry about. Trust me, Tony would shred up my suit if I didn’t call someone after what happened. You can bet on Tony or Wanda or Vision coming along with me.”

“Wanda or Vision?” May asks. “You mean the…”

“The two most powerful Avengers on the team? Yes. Believe me, I’ll have nothing to do,” Peter promises.

That gives May a little comfort. She leans back into the chair, evidently more relaxed. “Do you wanna watch a movie?” she asks, getting up quickly. “I know it’s a school day but let’s not worry about that. Come on.”

May doesn’t wait for Peter to respond before she’s helping him out of his chair and bringing him over to the kitchen counter. A warm blanket and two bowls of ice cream later, May and Peter are stretched across the couch, watching some feel-good movie. Levity and happiness is everything that Peter needs right now. His pain goes away. The anguish of reliving the lists and lists of names of the dead whose life has boiled down to being just that, _a list_ , fades to the back of his head. All the Avengers are after Spencer and Alistair Smythe. _Everything will be okay._

When the movie is over, Peter turns to May and musters up the courage to say, "Uh, May, I kind of maybe lost my set of apartment keys…"

May sighs, but she fortunately doesn't argue much. They go to the locksmith that night to order Peter a new set of keys. It takes longer to make a copy because of the silly little crest the landlord insisted on putting on every set of keys. Afterwards, May goes through the folder of homework she and Ned gathered from the school, but Peter ignores that. The next morning, May wakes Peter up early to get ready for school. Because of the enhanced healing process, Peter feels pretty confident he doesn’t need the crutches. May helps him take a shower, makes him breakfast and then drops him off at school. He’s unsure how much his mugging story has spread throughout campus so he walks alertly to the front door. As he walks inside, he realizes that in fact the story _did_ spread. Other juniors turn to look at Peter, whispering and pointing and then smiling. Peter can’t help but grin. Okay. Forget about being humble. _This is pretty sweet_.

He makes his way to his locker where Ned is already standing. “Dude!” Ned yells. He runs up to Peter. He stares Peter up and down and then squeals, “Damn, those robots _screwed_ you up, man!”

Peter shrugs. It isn’t exactly the right kind of appraisal Peter wants to hear at the moment, but he’ll let it slide. “This robot was pretty vicious,” Peter admits.

“Robot?!” Ned explains. “I think you mean _spider-slayer!_ But dude, that’s not the big news! Spider-Man isn’t even the biggest story right now. It’s you! You got mugged. And May and I added that you beat up the guy, too, so everyone thinks you’re pretty badass… _even Flash!”_

Peter doesn’t believe that. Shouldn’t getting beat up make him look like a loser? He gathers his books, stuffs it into his backpack and starts off toward his first class. It’s calculus, and Peter knows he’s behind so he is slightly worried. Written on the board is 2.3, the lesson the class is on. At least Peter hasn’t missed a test yet. He pulls out his textbook and tries to make sense of the new formulas.

“Is that Peter Parker?!” Someone squeals from behind him. He jumps slightly and whips around to see who it is: Gwen Stacy. Flash is lingering right behind staring at Gwen.

“Hey guys,” Peter says. He waves his bruised hands uncomfortably.

Gwen stops in front of Peter. She takes a long look at Peter before saying, “Wow. That mugger did a number on you, didn’t he?”

Peter shrugs. “Yeah — yeah it’s — it’s pretty bad… But, uh, you should see the other guy,” Peter says, awkwardly. Gwen and Flash are still staring at Peter, and they don’t seem interested in going away. “Uh, guys, I really got to—…” Peter glances at his calc textbook.

“Oh relax, Parker. Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?” Flash sneers.

“Back off Flash,” Gwen snaps. She hits Flash in the shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you fight off a mugger — or _anyone_ for that matter.”

“ _Whatever,”_ Flash says. “Nice shiner.” Flash gestures toward Peter’s eyes before taking his seat near the front of the class.

Gwen takes her own respective seat in a row in front of Peter. When she settles into her chair, she swivels around to speak to Peter. “Just ignore Flash. That’s what we normally do. I think that’s an impressive looking bruise.” She brushes her forefinger against the bruise on Peter’s eye delicately and then smiles. “I know this is your line, but I want to see the other guy.”

Peter can’t bring himself to smile; he’s too _shocked_. The events from last year got around the school pretty rapidly: ditching marching band and science club, ditching Ned at Liz’s party, ditching his Decathlon team in D.C., ditching Liz. Not a lot of people are interested in hanging out with Peter when they’re afraid they’re going to get ditched. Suffice to stay, Gwen Stacy talking to Peter makes butterflies fill his stomach. And not just _talk_ to Peter but _compliment_ him.

“Uh, uh, thanks Gwen,” Peter says. Distracted, he leans his elbow onto the edge of his calc book and he slides off. Peter catches it before it falls.

“Wow…” Gwen says. “Smart and a badass.”

Peter’s cheeks go bright red. “Uh, I wouldn’t say that.”

Gwen ignores him. “Come on Peter. You saved your ass. You _defended_ yourself, and this guy had a gun!” Gwen exclaims. That takes Peter by surprise. How the hell did Tony take care of all the details to make this story legit?

“Oh, uh, it was nothing,” Peter says.

“ _Nothing?_ No! Nothing is Flash getting an A on one of his tests. You’re basically a hero, Peter,” Gwen says.

Peter can’t respond because his calc teacher starts class. He can hardly focus on whatever his teacher is saying because Gwen is texting him during the entire class. Not just about the mugging, but about Peter’s interests, his plans for the future. It’s nice for someone besides Ned to be this interested in Peter’s life.

It isn’t just Gwen who treats Peter differently. When Flash gets one of the questions during calc class wrong and Peter gets it correct (even though Peter has missed the last couple of classes), Flash doesn’t glare at Peter in the same menacing way he used to. The other students in the calc class even go so far as to compliment Peter on getting the question right. Peter used to think it was considered lame to do well in school. This weird interest and compliments toward Peter continues through the rest of the day. During break, most of the Decathlon team are pretty interested in finding out Peter’s version of the story. Even members of the volleyball team ambush Peter at his locker in between classes to talk to him.

Peter isn’t used the attention. Normally, it’s Spider-Man that gets all the students talking, and that earns respect from Seymour and Flash. The tables have turned. As Peter goes to lunch, Spider-Man is only mentioned _after_ students talk about Peter’s mugging story. He has to admit that people starting to appreciate _Peter_ feels pretty good. Does it really matter that the mugging story isn’t actually real?

Peter goes to sit at lunch with Ned, smiling. He looks to the side to see Michelle half-asleep, a textbook open in front of her. “Oh. Hey MJ.”

She reluctantly looks away from her book and stares at Peter. Her eyes trail Peter’s booted foot and then stops to look at the bruises on Peter’s face. She takes a deep breathe and then says, “You missed two practices. You need to make up for it.” She turns back to her book like she hasn’t said anything.

“Okay…” Peter mutters. He turns over to Ned. “Have people been asking you about what happened to me a lot this week?” Peter asks.

Ned laughs. “Yeah. Everyone seems pretty interested in the guy who was _mugged_ right by the Stark Tower.”

Peter grins. In hushed tones, Ned shares the entire, very detailed description about the story he and May made up. Peter is surprised no one thought it was suspicious that Ned knew so many details about the attack, even though Ned wasn’t there _._ Just as Ned is about to explain the culmination of the fight between Peter and the fake mugger, they are interrupted with Gwen Stacy. While she normally sits at one of the round tables with all of her cool friends, she seems perfectly content with going to sit in front of Peter and Ned.

“Uh, hey Gwen,” Peter says.

“Hey guys,” she says, smiling. “I just wanted to let you guys know I’m having a party tomorrow night at my place and you guys are totally invited.” A second later, Peter and Ned’s phones go off, a message from Gwen that delinates the time and place of the party.

“That’d be totally awesome,” Ned says before Peter has an answer.

Gwen smiles. She gets up from her seat and turns to look at Michelle. “You’re invited too, of course, Michelle. Hope to see you there Peter — and don’t worry, I’ll save a parking spot up front for you,” Gwen says. She leaves before Peter or Ned can respond.

* * *

When Saturday rolls around, Peter wakes up to find most of his injuries pretty well healed. May takes Peter to the doctor’s office where he gets an x-ray of everything he’s broken. It takes a considerable amount of time but Peter is pleased to find that his foot is healing rapidly, now resembling what looks like a fracture or minor break, the ribs look as though they haven’t even been broken and the bruises are gone. He still has to wear the boot, however, which means no need to go dancing. A positive bonus.

Peter takes a quick shower and goes through three different shirts until he settles on a button-up. Ned gets permission from his parents to drive to Gwen’s place. It isn’t that long of a drive so Ned pulls into one of the open parking spots in front of Gwen Stacy’s house (they were pretty lucky Gwen promised to save them a parking spot in the front because cars were practically bumper to bumper down Gwen’s entire street) in no time. Peter slyly swings his boot over the car door and steps out. Being a city kid, Peter sometimes forgets about how _nice_ New York suburbs are. Gwen Stacy’s home is fairly pristine: perfectly polished blue paint, white moldings around the windows, a three car garage. The party has already been raging, so Peter can hear the music from the driveway and see the flashes of red and blue and green from strobe lights. Peter can hear the bustle of people cheering from inside and the door being yanked open and slammed shut.

Peter and Ned walk inside to the front door where he has to take a step back from how blaring loud the music is. The neon clothes, strobe lights and glow sticks are so bright it feels practically blinding to him. The kitchen, which is twice the size of the one Peter has at home, has bowls of chips and chex mix and grapes. There’s a little cooler by the island that some of the senior boys are still rummaging through. It takes walking through a glass of double french doors that leads to a huge pool and hottub. Gwen spared no expense with decorating the outside, either. Glow sticks lit up the pool. Balloons are tied to the chairs. It’s _pretty_ sweet.

“Oh hey… _Penis Parker!”_ comes a slurred, heavy voice. Peter and Ned turn around to see Flash Thompson, wearing one of his striped polos and khakis. His face is glowing red and he looks a little wobbly, so it’s pretty obvious that the drinks being served here aren’t just soda.

Peter sighs. “Hey Flash…”

“Howzzzz it goin’ loser?” Flash asks. He puts his hand on Peter’s shoulder, letting out a boisterous laugh. If Peter wasn’t Spider-Man, Flash would have knocked Peter over. “Ned, my dude!” Flash punches Ned in the shoulder and then walks away.

“Ow,” Ned says, rubbing his shoulder. “You think you’re gonna turn out as wonko as Flash tonight?”

Peter glances at Flash. He and his cohort of friends are dancing in the center of Gwen’s living room like crazy animals. Peter has a hard time letting loose, especially at social events like this. Peter shakes his head. “No, no, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. If Tony calls me for a mission and I’m buzzed, you can bet he’ll never let me be Spider-Man again,” Peter says. Peter feigns a shiver to add emphasis on how truly _awful_ that would be.

“Okay, okay,” Ned says. He glances at Flash. “Yeah. We should actively avoid being like Flash.”

Right now, Flash and his friends are trying to master what looks like the YMCA, but the letters are not only far from what they should look like, he and his friends are also spelling it wrong.

“Good plan,” Peter says. Peter and Ned walk over to the kitchen where they start perusing through some of the food. As he does, a senior girl, one that modeled for some magazine and whose eyes makes Peter’s stomach melt, smiles at Peter. “H — hey,” Peter stammers.

He feels his cheeks go red, another clear sign of awkward teenage boy coming through. He tries to remind himself that right now most of the upperclassmen think of Peter as a rugged man who survived a brutal attack, not that freshman boy who tripped over nothing in the cafeteria on their first day ( _bad memory_ — Peter doesn’t know why he thought about that _)_. _Gwen invited you_. _These people want to talk to you. Stop being so awkward, Peter_.

“It’s Peter, right?” the senior girl, Anna Marconi, says.

“Y — yeah,” Peter says. He runs his fingers through his hair. “And this is Ned.”

“Ned. Hey. Nice hat,” she says. When Anna is distracted with Seymour O’Reilly screaming at the top lungs, Peter and Ned glance at each other in absolute shock that one of the prettiest girls at Midtown is talking to the two of them. “Are you enjoying the party? It’s pretty lit,” Anna says, laughing.

“ _Lit_ -erally,” Peter says. He grimaces in response. Why can’t he _ever_ just have a normal conversation with a girl without sounding like such a dork. “Yeah, uh, so have you had a pretty good week?”

Anna nods. “Yeah. Not as crazy as you _obviously_.”

Peter shrugs. “It — it’s nothing.”

“ _Nothing?!_ You could have died,” Anna says. “What’s with you? First everything that happens to the Decathalon team and then you get mugged. Jeez, Spider-Man should just follow you around.” Peter tries to stifle a chuckle.

Coming to interrupt their conversation, Gwen Stacy comes scurrying over to where Anna, Peter and Ned are talking. Gwen dresses pretty preppy at school so when she walks over wearing a jean skirt and this lace, low-cut tank top, Peter’s breathe is both literally and figuratively taken away. She puts her hand on Anna’s shoulder and says, “Peter, Ned, hey! I didn’t see you guys walk in. Have you met Anna before?”

“No, not really,” Peter manages.

Gwen smiles. “Wow. You look great for a guy who was just beat up.”

“Uh, thanks,” Peter says.

“And Ned! How are you doing?” Gwen asks.

“Good,” Ned says.

“Sorry I haven’t been able to talk to you guys for too long. My parents are out of town for the weekend and I’m trying to make sure the party doesn’t get too out of hand,” she says. “I’ve mostly been babysitting Flash and his dumb friends. The one time I let my older brother buy some stuff with his fake ID and this happens. But there’s food, drinks of multiple kinds and the bathroom is down the hall and to the left!” Gwen says. She touches Peter’s shoulder. “You and I will have to catch up later tonight. I’m gonna go do some restock on ice. Anna, can you help me?”

It’s an innocent enough question but Anna grimaces. “At least let me have your snapchat,” Anna says to Peter. She takes out her cell phone.

“ _Later!”_ Gwen insists. She grabs hold of Anna and pulls her away.

Ned and Peter stare as the two high school girls venture off toward where Peter can only assume is the garage. “ _Dude!”_ Ned says. He hits Peter in the stomach. “Gwen Stacy totally has a crush on you!”

Peter raises his eyebrows. “I don’t know, man.” They walk over to the kitchen counter where they continue their conversation. Ever since his freshman year of high school when he and Gwen both joined the Decathlon team, he always thought of Gwen as pretty. But he also thought Liz, Betty and Michelle were pretty too. Besides, Gwen knew Peter when he was a freshman. There’s a reason why Peter has never had a serious girlfriend yet. “Jeez, I’m starving,” Peter says to change the subject. He grabs a paper bowl and starts scooping out chips.

“Aren’t you always starving?” comes a monotone voice. Peter and Ned turn to look at Michelle, leaning against the fridge, sipping a cup of water. She looks different too. She wears the same funky, dark clothing that Peter likes, but her hair is straight and pulled out of her face.

“Your hair is straight,” Ned says.

“Astute observation,” Michelle mutters. She brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes. Peter has yet to say anything to Michelle. It’s pretty superficial to this surprised when he sees Michelle and hair doesn’t define how much Peter actually likes MJ, but Peter has always liked change. “Peter. How did your black eye heal so quickly?”

“No, no, I — I — I have makeup on,” Peter stammers. _Why would that be the right thing to say?_ “No. I’m not wearing makeup right now. I, uh, you reading any good books, recently?”

Michelle shrugs. “I’m still picking another one,” she says.

“I thought you thought parties were lame,” Ned asks.

“They are,” she says. “But I find it enjoyable to watch social interactions play out when alcoholic beverages are in play.” She looks over at a crowd of wasted seniors and laughs as one nearly breaks a lamp. Michelle jots something down in her notebook. “I’ll be on the balcony counting how people vomit tonight.” Michelle smiles at Peter and then runs off.

Replacing Michelle’s retreating figure are Gwen and Anna, lugging around a couple bags of ice. Peter doesn’t think before he goes to help them haul the ice to the cooler. Gwen lets out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Peter,” she says. She takes a pair of scissors from the drawer and starts cutting open ice bags. “Can you get the cooler open for me?” Peter complies quickly, trying to ignore Ned grinning broadly and hitting Peter’s shoulder at least three times. “Thanks,” she says.

“Looks like you got enough ice,” Peter says. _Yes. Because that’s how you talk to girls…_

“Yeah, well, people are bound to get hot dancing this much,” Gwen says, gesturing toward the living room where people are jumping up and down to the blaring music. “Ah, I love this song! Peter, why don’t you come dance with me? Anna, you should show Ned the backyard. We went pretty hard with the decorations,” Gwen says. Gwen doesn’t wait for anyone to respond. She grabs hold of Peter’s hands, which are immediately sweaty on impact, and brings him into the living room.

There’s a little gap toward one of Gwen’s couches and the two of them fill in that spot. Peter’s god awful dancing coupled with the boot on his leg makes him a weapon on the dance floor. He looks at Gwen, wide-eyed. She seems to be in genuine contentment. Relaxed. Enjoying her night. Peter has no idea how to let loose the way Gwen is. Peter doesn’t even recognize the song so there’s no way he can join Gwen in with singing along. He tries awkwardly bobbing his head to the beat.

“Come on! Relax!” Gwen says. She takes hold of Peter’s hands, turns him to face her and they start swaying back and forth. “See? That’s more like it!” Peter still doesn’t see what looks so awesome about him awkwardly swaying back and forth with Gwen, and him being absolutely drenched in sweat. Nonetheless, it’s clear that Gwen is enjoying herself. After a few songs pass, Gwen lets out a deep breath and throws her hair into a loose ponytail. “Let’s get something to drink!”

“Uh, sure,” Peter says, half-relieved that Gwen is no longer interested in dancing.

Even with the awkward dancing being over, Gwen keeps hold of Peter’s hand all the way to the kitchen. She only releases Peter when she takes two waters and gives one to Peter. “You should dance more often,” Gwen compliments.

Peter has no idea what to say back to that, nor does he have any idea what kind of connotation a comment like that would mean. Does that mean Peter has to ask her to the next dance? Does that mean they’re dating now? Or does it mean that Peter _should_ dance more often? Instead of having to come up with a good response like _thanks_ , Peter takes a long swig from his water. He looks around her kitchen until he spots one of her baby photos. _That should be a good conversation starter_.

Peter sets the water bottle down and grabs hold of Gwen’s baby photo. “This is...cute,” Peter says. _That’s the right word,_ right?

Gwen smiles. “Thanks. There’s more photos down the hall. I can show you.” She takes hold of Peter’s hand again and starts bringing him around the hallway.

_This isn’t quite what I meant_ , Peter thinks to himself. _Just play it cool. Don’t be a dork. Play it cool, Parker_. Peter looks at the family portrait in front of them, where Gwen is probably no more than four or five years old. Peter recognizes her father: Captain George Stacy. Peter can’t say he hasn’t had his fair share of interactions with Captain Stacy. The amount of times Captain Stacy has tried to arrest Spider-Man can’t be counted on both hands. “Oh, that’s a nice photo,” Peter says when he realizes no one has spoken in a while.

“Thanks,” Gwen says. She turns to look at Peter, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her face. “Hey Peter, I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Peter says.

Gwen reaches her hand forward and slips her fingers through Peter’s. “You’re really cool, Peter,” she whispers, turning to face Peter straight on.

“You’re pretty cool, too,” Peter says.

Gwen stares Peter for a pretty long time. _Too long_. And then, Peter has no idea what’s happening when Gwen leans in close to him. His brain doesn’t completely register what’s happening, especially when Gwen’s lips meet his.

Peter can only think two words: _holy hell, holy hell, holy hell._ The kiss doesn’t deepen any more than just a touch to the lips, but Peter’s face feels like it’s going to melt. _Play it cool, man._ He’s seen enough movies to have a faint idea of what he’s supposed to do next. Hands on the waist. That’s what Bruce Willis did in _Die Hard_... Right?

When Gwen pulls away, Peter is out of breath. “Uhhh,” is the only sound that Peter can manage.

His body feels numb afterwards so he hardly registers Gwen putting her hands on Peter’s shoulders and lightly kissing him on the cheek. “Call me sometime,” Gwen whispers into Peter’s ears.

“Uh, yeah, sure…” Peter whispers.

Gwen smiles and turns away, leaving Peter to gaze after her. When he’s alone, Peter raises his eyebrows and slowly walks out of the hallway. The party is more mellow now since some of the crowd has departed and Gwen isn’t in sight. That being said, Peter manages to spot Ned on the couch with Michelle beside him, reading a book. Peter walks up to them, lets out a heavy sigh and then drops down beside the two of them.

Ned jerks and turns to look at Peter. “Dude, what the hell just happened?!”

“You know, I’m not really sure,” Peter says.

“Gwen obviously likes you,” Michelle says, casually. “Does it take getting run over, too, in order to see that?”

“Damn,” Ned says, giving Michelle a shocked look. “You jealous or something?” Michelle gives them a terrible look before getting up and walking away. “Dude, Gwen Stacy has a crush on you!”

“No, no, she doesn’t,” Peter says.

But it would be so awesome if that is case. Gwen kissing Peter has nothing to do with Peter being Spider-Man. It has to do with Peter being Peter. For the first time in what felt like a year, Peter is more excited about being himself than putting on the suit as his alter-ego.


	8. Avengers Assemble!

Chapter Eight: Avengers Assemble!

When Peter wakes up, his head is spinning. He and Ned didn't get back to their respective homes until 3:30. To be fair, they would have stayed later but Gwen's neighbors called about the noise and threatened to involve the cops. The sheer idea of getting caught at a party with alcohol scared Peter and Ned into leaving. On top of that, they would have been home earlier but after finding out that Michelle came to Gwen's home on her bike, they gave her a ride home, too. While Michelle would've sat in the back and put her headphones in, Peter tries to make her be social. He blares her favorite genre of music — anything from the 70's — and she surprises the two of them with singing along to herself quietly. 

It's 10:30, so Peter got a decent amount of sleep considering how much he gets during the week. The second he wakes up, flashes from last night flood into his memory. Gwen had to take care of Flash after... well,  _you remember_ , so they never really had the chance to talk. When Peter went to say goodbye, Gwen kissed his cheek and that was it. So, does Peter Parker have a girlfriend? He doesn't really know. He isn't completely sure because Gwen hasn't said anything to him, and Peter hasn't said anything to Gwen. It isn't like Peter is unfamiliar with the idea of dating (he has seen  _the Breakfast Club_ and  _Valentine's Day)_ , but in all honesty, Peter's history in the relationship department is pretty scant. It's been ingrained in Peter's mind and in society that the male is supposed to make the first move.  _Stupid rule_ , Peter thinks. So does the first move include texting? Or calling? Or waiting until school?  _Is_ there a proper wait time?

"You look like there's something on your mind," May says. It's Sunday morning, which means May has the day off so she thought it would be nice to spend the day with Peter. The kitchen smells of bacon still frying and coffee just made. As soon as Peter goes to sit down, May is setting the plate in front of him. "Is there something you want to talk about?" She pauses and then adds, "You're not hungover, are you?"

Peter laughs. "No. No. That's not my thing."

May smiles. "Good. Well, at the very least, if that was your thing, that's a conversation I expected to have with a normal teenager. So, what's going on Peter? Did something happen at the party?"

There's underlying temptation for Peter to keep what happened at the party to himself, but this isn't that serious so he figures it doesn't matter if May knows. "You know Gwen Stacy, right?" 

May shrugs. "She's on your little smart people team right?"

"Academic Decathlon team, and yes, she is," Peter says. "It's just... last night at the party, she and I kind of..." Peter gestures with his hands to suggest... " _you know_... We kissed last night."

May nearly drops her fork. " _Really?!_ Oh, that's so cute."

Peter's cheek flushes red. He holds up his hands. "Okay, okay, let's not be crazy. So, what does it mean to a girl if she kisses you at a party?" 

"It depends. Do you like her? Does she like you? Have you talked about it? Are you guys going out? Do you plan on taking her on a date?" May asks.

Peter feels utterly overwhelmed, and he's only talking to May right now. "I don't know. What's a date?"

May groans. "Text her. Talk to her. That's the only way to really understand a girl."

"Okay. Okay. How do I talk to a girl?" Peter asks.

"Yeah, that one you're going to have to figure out on your own," she says. "Just start with texting her. And then make sure you talk to her on Monday. Don't be a jerk and blow her off. You promise?"

"Uh, right. So how do I bring the conversation up?" Peter says, awkwardly. 

Muggers, bank robbers and robotic flying machines, Peter/Spider-Man can handle. But trying to understand the ins and out of the female mind is a whole other story.  Peter spends the rest of breakfast asking May what made a girl consider a guy not an asshole and what did the opposite. When he clears his plate, he feels his heart racing as he pulls his cell phone out, clicks on Gwen's contact and texts the word << _hey_ >>. It takes a couple of minutes for Gwen to respond (May said something about the amount of time that passes between each text message means something that is way too complicated for Peter to think about). When the conversation is over, Peter thinks he made himself seem like a pretty chill guy and he apparently has a date this Friday. That will be a whole different conversation to have with May, one that he'll worry about when it comes up. 

Peter likes Gwen. For sure. He's known her for forever, appreciates how intelligent she is and the way she holds herself with dignity, but he isn't sure if he  _likes her_ likes her. Peter has been told that a pretty shitty thing to do to someone is to lead a person on. He knows for sure that what he felt for Liz isn't what he feels for Gwen. Still, Peter thinks Gwen should get a chance. You never know what might happen. 

Most of Sunday is spent trying to catch up with homework and all the schoolwork he missed. Calculus is Peter's priority. Normally, math isn't hard for him but Peter is finding it difficult to catch up with what he missed. He picks up his phone, scrolls through his contacts and calls Michelle. It takes a couple of rings before she answers. "What?" she says, bored.

"Hey MJ, did you understand 2.1?" Peter asks. 

"Yeah," she says. 

Peter waits a long second. "So can you help me with it?"

"I'll be over in ten minutes," Michelle says and then hangs up. It wasn't quite what Peter expects but he doesn't mind. While he waits, he tells May Michelle is coming over and tries to get through some of the reading he has to do for English. She buzzes in when she gets here and Peter goes to let her in. Skipping most formalities, Michelle says hello to May and then goes into Peter's bedroom. "I've got things to do in two hours so we have to be quick."

"Right," Peter says. He falls into his chair. "So, what do you have planned tonight?"

"A cult meeting," Michelle answers.

"Was that a joke?" Peter says, lips stretching wide into a smile. "I don't think I've ever heard you make a joke before." 

Michelle doesn't look at Peter, but he can still detect the smile on her face. She walks Peter through the lesson before starting on the homework with him. "Heard you have a girlfriend," Michelle says. She sounds nonchalant but makes it a personal effort not to look at Peter when she speaks. 

Peter would normally ask how Michelle knows so many details about Peter, but he's gotten so used to it, Peter says nothing about it. He just shrugs. "I'm not really sure. Did Gwen say we were dating?"

"She said it was a thing," Michelle says. "And no, I can't explain to you what a thing means. Did you finish the first question?"

"Oh right," Peter says. He makes note to ask May later.

They stop talking about dating and, other than a couple remarks about some of the people-watching observations Michelle made at the party last night, they focus on getting the homework done. Halfway through their little homework meeting, May drops off some lemonade and snacks. Peter likes working with Michelle. She doesn't feel the need to fill every second with conversation and she's incredibly focused. They get through the calc homework fast and then she's off doing whatever it is Michelle Jones does in her spare time. Michelle is a mystery. Has been ever since Peter met her. To be fair, Peter's life is just as much of a mystery. 

With calculus finished, Peter isn't so worried about catching up on the rest of his makeup work. Peter breezes through history, English, communications and even gets some light studying for Decathlon nationals done. Homework isn't exactly what Peter wants to do, especially when he hasn't had the chance to do any rounds as Spider-Man in the past week. He still isn't healed, nor has Tony sent the Iron-Spider suit back to him. Both make Peter unbelievably irritated. Who knows how many people Peter could have helped this week if he was healed? And once he is, how many more crimes can be committed since Peter doesn't have the suit yet, either? Utterly put out just thinking about not having the suit, he decides to send Tony a text and then call it good on doing homework. Tony finally responds later that night with a << _you're not getting the suit back until I know you're fully healed >>._

Great. Why does everyone think of Peter as just a kid who can't make responsible decisions for himself? Peter would never risk his life with a broken-ish leg and whatever other injuries Peter has. He isn't stupid. But, thinking about it, perhaps Tony does have a point. If Peter thinks someone needs help, even with his injury, Peter knows he would go to protect them. It's his responsibility, his duty to New York. That being said, Peter is pretty excited when May schedules another doctor's appointment on Wednesday. Peter 'unfortunately' has to miss his morning classes that day since that is the only time there is both an opening in the doctor's schedule as well as May's work schedule. When the X-Ray is finished, Peter is delighted to discover that his leg is completely healed. His euphoria is only slightly ruined when the doctor finds it rather odd that his once pretty broken leg is now in perfect condition. May and Peter dodge that doctor's questions and Peter is off to Midtown for the day.

Peter gets to Midtown during break and he heads to locker where he finds both Ned and Gwen waiting. That's kind of how it has been this week. It seems that this  _'thing'_ Peter and Gwen have apparently means something that can possibly progress to legitimate relationship. She normally walks in to school with Peter in the morning and, if she doesn't meet Peter at the front door, she'll meet him at his locker. Gwen doesn't sit with them at lunch, however. She'll stop by, of course, and say hi to the Peter, Ned and MJ, who still sits pretty close to them. It's surprising that Gwen is still so interested in Peter, especially since the mugger story is starting to fade (just a little). 

"Hey! The cast is off!" Gwen exclaims when Peter walks up to his locker after the appointment. She grabs hold of Peter's hand and gives him a half-hearted hug. "Is it fully healed?"

Peter nods. He can't help but grin. "Yeah. That's what the doc said."

"Does that mean you can resume...  _physical activity_ _?"_ Ned asks. 

"Ew, Ned. We're not dating!" Gwen says, hitting Ned's shoulder. Peter knows that Ned is talking about Spider-Man, not Gwen. "So, can we talk about our date on Friday?"

Peter doesn't have the time to focus on what Gwen is saying because in that same instant, his phone goes off. It's a call from Tony. _Tony Stark._ Not just Happy and if Tony is calling him... Peter stops listening to Gwen, altogether. He hasn't really been too interested in the date with Gwen, anyway. It isn't necessarily because he isn't interested in Gwen. The hunt for Spencer and Alistair Smythe is a bigger deal. Staring at Tony's name on Peter's phone makes Peter's heart start racing. This has to be it. Tony would only call if it meant a real Avengers mission. Peter's fear of Tony conducting the mission without him disappears. Tony isn't doing that. Not this time. Tony promised, and he kept that promise. 

"Peter? Are you listening to me?" Gwen asks.

"Huh? What? Sorry." Peter reluctantly lets Tony's call go to voicemail and then says, "I'm just a little tired right now."

Gwen shrugs. "I was thinking maybe we could out for a picnic in Central Park? I know it's a little cliched but I think it'd be kind of fun."

"No, no. Of course. I'm happy doing whatever you want to do," Peter says. He's still a little distracted now that he started thinking about Tony and the Avengers. He tries to focus as hard as he can on this mission — er,  _date_. "If you want to go on a date to Central Park, then that's what we'll do."

Gwen smiles. "Thanks. I'll can make some food for the date. Any requests?"

"No, no. Surprise me," Peter says. 

Gwen gives him another kiss on the cheek and then turns to go to her next class. "'Eyyyyyy," Ned says, elbowing Peter in the shoulder. "So things are going pretty well for you and Gwen, right?"

Peter smiles. "Yeah, yeah, I guess."

"Do you like her?" 

"Yeah, yeah, I guess," Peter says, absent-mindedly. There's a text now, and Peter clicks on it. It reads << _Call me when you get home_ _from school. Not a minute before_ >>. 

Peter groans because he absolutely hates the idea of waiting a few more hours until  _after_ school. He stares at the clock, counting the seconds as they go by slowly. When the bell rings, it feels like his sophomore year when he's racing out of school, leaping over the fence and beating the crowd to the metro. May is in the kitchen on her laptop. She doesn't even find it odd when Peter runs into his bedroom, already unlocking his cell phone and calling Tony.

"You know, I really hate it when people ignore my call," Tony says. There's a mix of twisted satisfaction and sarcasm. 

"Sorry. I was talking Gwen and—"

"Gwen? Gwen? Who is this Gwen you're talking about?" Tony says.

"What? No. That doesn't matter. What's going on? Why did you call?" Peter asks.  _Please be an Avengers mission. Please be an Avengers mission._

"We found them," Tony says.  _Yes!_ "FRIDAY has been putting in hours scanning for anything that would lead us to Spencer or Alistair Smythe and we finally found them. Got a hit off of an ATM camera. It's a pretty secluded warehouse about three hours away. Whole team is going. I heard that your doctor cleared you of all injuries, so if you want in, you're in." 

" _If?!_ I'm there!" Peter exclaims. 

"We're going Wednesday, Peter," Tony says. "So make sure you're all ready to go by 7:00 otherwise you're not coming. _Capisce_?"

Peter nods. "Yeah, yeah, of course."

"So that time works for you? I sure hope it does. We even scheduled this for later just because we thought you would want to come," Tony says.

"Yeah no, of course it's—..." Peter stops. He remembers that one little event that's been hanging over Peter's head since the weekend.  _It can't be tonight. It can't be tonight. It can't be tonight_. The date with Gwen. After checking the calendar, he realizes it's just his luck for his first date in forever to be scheduled at the same time of his first real Avenger's mission ever. 

"Peter? Kid, you still there?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah no. Of course. That's not a big deal. That time works for me," Peter says.

"Okay. Good. I'll see then," Tony says. Peter doesn't even get the chance to say goodbye before Tony hangs up. 

 _Okay. Okay, this could totally be worse_. Peter and Gwen aren't technically dating so she shouldn't get that upset with Peter bailing on her on just the first date. That gives Peter a little bit of false confidence, so he pulls out his cell phone and calls Gwen. Fortunately, Peter gets her voicemail. "Hey, Gwen, it's Peter. Hope everything is going alright for you right now. I'm really sorry but..." Peter spared half a second to think... "a family emergency came up and I can't make it Friday. I'm so sorry and I promise I'll make it up to you. I'll call you later." He hangs up, feeling pretty good about himself and then runs out of his bedroom to tell Aunt May when he realizes she's standing right outside his door. "Holy... May, you scared me."

"Funny. Sit down," she says, firmly. Peter feels his heart start beating rapidly and he complies without saying anything. "Tony told me about the mission Friday night."

"Oh. Okay," Peter says. He tries to keep himself from sighing in relief but he can't help himself. For once, Peter doesn't have to go behind May's back and the burden of telling her is also off his chest. This feeling of relief is short-lived because May's eyebrows are knitted with both concern and unhappiness. "So... am I good to go?" Peter is trying hard not to sound as though he expects to go (even though he does  _expect_ May to let him go). 

"You  _better_ be careful. Am I clear?" May speaks so seriously it freaks Peter out more than when Tony or Steve yell at him.

"Yeah, of course... I always am," Peter says. This is weird. Having this kind of a conversation before going on an active mission never happens. Peter likes change but not  _this_ kind of change.

"I already talked to Tony. He said that you would basically be the Scarlet Witch girl's shadow and that I shouldn't have anything to worry about, so, if you leave her side, you don't get to use the car for the rest of high school. And no parties. And no Ned for all of high school too — and yes, I will be able to find out because Tony said something about your suit recording the entire fight. Do you understand?" May says.

Peter is cool with working with Wanda on the mission, but he isn't very found about having a babysitter or being sidelined from the fight because, after all, these jerks are after  _him_. Swallowing his pride, Peter puts on a fake smile. "Of course."

A weak smile stretches across May's face. She leans over and kisses Peter's forehead before pulling away and then saying rather harshly, "And did I really just hear you  _cancel_ your date with Gwen over  _voicemail?_ _"_

"Am I not supposed to do that stuff over voicemail?" Peter asks. He earns a smack on the head for that comment.

* * *

Friday after school, the Iron-Spider suit is waiting for Peter. That night, May drives Peter over to the former Avengers Tower since that is the closest place to Queens that is still suitable to land the quinjet. The building isn't being used for anything so Peter sneaks to the top without an issue. Peter gives May a bear hug of a goodbye, gasping for breath after she releases him from her monster grip. Even though Peter insists that Wanda won't let Peter get any action (honestly, Peter is convinced of that since Wanda doesn't need any help holding her own), May  _isn't_ convinced. She's terrified in fact. Seeing the look on her face when Peter walks away kind of makes Peter wish May didn't know about his secret. Lying sometimes  _can_ be easier when he knows he can save May from this kind of fear and worry.

Upstairs, the quinjet is just parked on the top of the building. The back of the quinjet to the door is popped wide open so Peter hurries inside. Just as Tony promised, all the Avengers are inside the quinjet: Bucky and Sam are lounging on one of the seats; Vision and Wanda are flipping through something on the massive touch screens; Steve, in that dark version of the Captain America suit, is standing beside Natasha near the front of the quinjet; and Tony is sitting in the pilot's seat. Peter has never been on a real mission with the other Avengers so he isn't sure how the others tend to react during these kinds of things. Just based off of everyone's expression, it's clear that tension is in the air. Unease. When Peter steps inside, the door shuts behind him automatically, and Tony and Wanda walk over to him.

"Glad for you to be here on time," Tony says. "You can find a seat anywhere but not by the pilot's seat. That's where I'm going to be and I like my space."

"Right. Of course..." Peter says. Tony pats him on the back and then goes off to the pilot's seat. Peter turns to look at Wanda. "So, what kind of stuff do we do while getting to the mission?"

She shrugs. "We just sit for a while, mostly. Then Steve gets up, gives a little speech and we're off." Wanda pulls Peter toward where she and Vision are sitting. She lounges herself in the corner. 

"What's up, Viz?" Peter asks, holding up his hand.

"Nothing much, Mr. Parker. I believe you are suggesting a  _high-five_?" Vision asks. 

"Yes! That's right," Peter exclaims. The two high-five. Afterwards, Steve calls Vision over to discuss logistics for the mission. 

"How are you holding up?" Wanda asks. 

Out of all the Avengers, it would have been Wanda Peter would have had the easiest time opening up to. At the same time, Peter doubts that any of the Avengers are interested in being dragged into Peter's own mess. Ignore how tired he is. Ignore what happened with the memorial. Ignore how May reacted. Sometimes his personal problems should just stay at his personal problems. Finally, Peter decides to just say, "I've been good." It's obvious that Wanda doesn't believe Peter but she doesn't push the subject.

Just as Tony promised, it is a long, three hour flight to get to Alistair and Spencer Smythe's evil lair. They're hiding somewhere in Louisiana. Unfortunately, Tony promised that there won't be any sight seeing today on this trip, which Peter was really looking forward to since he has never been to Louisiana before. No one seems too interested in hanging out with Peter on the flight since everyone is distracted with their own business, so Peter relaxes in the corner of the quinjet. He explores the inside, taking in some of the maps and the little first aid stations and the parachutes. When he gets bored, he goes back to his seat.

Peter should be used to going on missions. He should get used to the uneasiness and the nerves that comes with putting the Iron-Spider suit on. Plus, Peter is with the other Avengers, which means there is a pretty small chance anyone is going to get hurt. It'll be an effortless mission. These are just robots. Wanda, Vision and Tony can blast these robots to pieces without even blinking an eye. If there was one mission Peter really wasn't needed for, it would have been this one. But something still doesn't feel right.  _These guys want to kill Peter._ Specifically Peter. That terrifies him to no end. He takes a deep breath and puts his head in his hands. Times like this, Peter is thankful for the mask. He hates being scared, and especially would hate the others finding out, too.

"Peter?" Wanda asks.

He looks up. "Huh, what?" He sometimes forgets Wanda can read minds, and he really doesn't feel like having this conversation with her right now. Not in front the other teammates.

"We're almost here," she says.

Wanda points to the center of the quinjet where the team is starting to gather around Steve. She helps Peter off the ground and they walk over together. As Peter goes to stand between Vision and Wanda, he can't help but be in awe. These are the real Avengers. That's the Falcon activating Redwing (this cute little robot that Peter likes to talk to) and Black Widow turning her stingers on and  _Iron-Man_ getting his suit adjusted. This is real. And Peter is a part of them. He still has a hard time believing that.

"Alright guys, if our intel is right, Spencer and Alistair Smythe are going to be hiding out here. There shouldn't be many civilians so we're going in hot. Get in and get out in under an hour if possible. Sam, Buck, I want you to take Wanda and Peter and start at the roof and work you're way down. The rest of us will get in from the bottom. Our primary objective is  to apprehend Spencer and Alistair Smythe. And, assuming that they're there, that likely means destroying or disarming the Spider-Slayers as well," Steve says. He speaks seriously, no-nonsense, and this excites Peter. He normally has to make up his own mission strategies so just having to follow orders may actually be kind of relaxing. "Wanda and Peter, I want you two to focus on finding Spencer and Alistair. If you need backup call Sam and Bucky."

"And I'm serious, Peter, you stay in Wanda's line of sight," Tony warns.

"I won't let him go anywhere," Wanda says, firmly enough to make Tony look reassured.

The little speech from Steve is over and everyone is now moving toward the back of the quinjet. They're jumping out of it and then FRIDAY is supposed to make an emergency landing somewhere far from the warehouse to keep their whereabouts secret. The drop to the top of the secret lair isn't suppose to be that high so Peter shouldn't be that nervous. But then again, Peter can't really say jumping out of this quinjet is a normal occurrence. Knowing that Wanda is his babysitter makes him feel a little better. With the back of the quinjet wide open, Wanda takes hold of Peter and together they jump. Okay. Jump is a strong word. Because the minute their feet aren't on the sturdy surface of the quinjet, red mist is wrapping itself securely around Peter and Wanda, and they're merely  _floating_ to ground. Beside him, Steve is propelling to the ground with no parachute, Tony has a hold of Nat, Vision is streamlining after Tony and Sam is keeping hold of Bucky.

Sam and Bucky make it to the rooftop first, and Wanda and Peter follow shortly. Peter looks around. Wherever they are, it isn't a nice part of town. There are a few lights besides the one coming from some of the one-story buildings below. The road is shabby and clearly not very busy. The warehouse Peter is on right now seems to the tallest, though it can't be more than three stories, and the newest, which is saying something given that parts of the rooftop are already cracking apart. 

Time dwelling on his surroundings is brief because Wanda is already taking hold of Peter and directing him toward the rooftop door. Steve is counting out loud over comms and Sam is keeping count with his fingers. On three, Wanda twists her fingers in the air and the door comes splintering apart. Bucky and Sam go first. Then Peter, and Wanda bringing up the rear. "Karen, activate heightened hearing mode," Peter orders as he follows Wanda, Bucky and Sam into what looks like a plain hallway that connects to different doorways and another staircase. Even with sensitive hearing mode and Peter's spidey-senses, there isn't much to see or hear. No footsteps. No heavy breathing. It seems as though this warehouse is completely empty. 

Just then, when Peter is sure this is a false trial, Steve manages over comms, "Incoming!"

The left wall is blasted to pieces. Peter thinks it’s a guarantee that at least one person is going to get some kind of terrible cut or wound from the wall but Wanda impresses Peter with her fast reflexes. What looks like a red thin cover blankets the four of them. As metal meets red magic, the metal disintegrates. Peter turns to see what they're facing. Another Spider-Slayer. It resembles one of the designs on blueprints Peter saw at Smythe Industries, the one that looks like a spider-bot Tony made for Peter but with more devilish, terrifying qualities. Only, this flying little thing is  _huge_. The legs are probably taller than Peter and the actual body looks like the size of a car. 

Streams of blue coming from the Spider-Slayer's eyes shoot straight at Wanda and Peter. No time for a force field. "Down!" Wanda yells. She grabs Peter's shoulders and throws the two of them to the side. Sam and Bucky scatter as another round of what Peter can only imagine are lasers rapidly shoot out at them. When the lasers make contact with the walls around Peter, the building's very walls start to crack. Dust and debris go flying. Peter thinks fast. He shoots a web at one of the legs and yanks the thing wildly. Sure it doesn't really do much damage to the Spider-Slayer but it's enough for the other three Avengers to get their footing. 

"Wanda, Peter, it looks like you have two friends waiting on the second floor for you," Tony says. He doesn't even sound mildly panicked. 

"Go! We got this!" Sam yells. 

Wanda doesn't waste a second. Her thoughts are no longer on the Spider-Slayer. She's gripping Peter's shoulders and pushing him down the flight of stairs. A blue laser comes spiraling past Peter's face. It hits the staircase railing, splintering it apart and making part of the stairs crack and crumble. Stopping only momentarily to prevent himself from falling into the hole now in front of them, Peter takes a running leap and makes his way over. More gracefully, Wanda's powers allow her to make it across the stairs without breaking a sweat. Sprinting down the flight of stairs, Peter comes to skidding halt right at the entrance to the second floor. Peter grabs Wanda's waist and yanks her away from the door just as a line of what looks like very sharp and lethal daggers lodge itself into the wall. 

"Grenade web!" Peter orders and then lets it loose in the hall. He peaks around the corner just barely to see this pretty ugly looking alien/Scooby-Doo looking robot using razor sharp talons to claw itself out of the web mess. A few more grenade webs and Peter and Wanda barely have enough time to get through. Peter is completely tense as he tiptoes down the hall behind Wanda. Ears straining to hear anything that could be threatening, eyes rapidly scanning for any indication of Spencer or Alistair Smythe. These two guys, despite them being smart enough to create a breed of robots, aren't so good at being stealthy. Peter can hear them from down the hallway. They're racing toward the emergency exit. Peter doesn't think. He flings webs toward their feet. 

Only, Peter never has the chance to yank Alistair and Spencer to the ground. The robot Peter webbed up before has sliced it's way out it the web trap and, in the process, cuts apart the webs that kept Peter attached to the Smythes. The alien robot thing springs in front of Wanda and Peter. Fortunately, Wanda's a freaking badass. The robot freezes, glued to the ground by scarlet wisps, and then slowly the limbs start falling apart. "Go!" She commands.

Peter can't help but be afraid that May or Tony will be mad that he is leaving Wanda's side but there isn't much think about that. Peter gets a web attached to the ceiling above the robot and leaps over it. He sticks the landing perfectly, rolling and then leaping off again after Alistair and Spencer. "Hey! Freeze!" Peter yells. "Oh, shit!" Another Spider-Slayer collides into Peter's side. Not enough to do severe damage, but enough to make Peter lose his balance and make his ribs explode with pain. Maybe now is the wrong time to think this but Peter's fighting a faceless army of robots, which means he's a real Avenger now. This robot is pretty similar to first one Peter fought off: long tentacles and a tight grip. One talon grabs hold of Peter's ankle. Peter launches a web grenade onto the robot's head, and the spider-slayer jerks backwards. Wanda is next to Peter now. She blasts the robot's chest and it breaks apart. "Thanks!"

"No time," she says. She and Peter run down the hall toward Spencer and Alistair Smythe. "And don't tell Tony I let you go ahead!"

"Wouldn't dream of it!" Peter pants. The Smythes are making their way down the stairs now. "Sorry, I need you back here!" Using his webs, he practically drags Alistair and Spencer back. With Wanda's powers, she helps push them securely against the wall in front. "Okay. That was a little rough. Sorry." 

"Brought in the Avengers, I see," Alistair says. 

"More power. Easier fight," Peter explains.

"Would have served you well back at Smythe Industries," Alistair quips. 

"Look," Peter starts, "that was just—"

" _Enough,"_ Wanda hisses. Her voice reminds Peter that this is a legit Avengers mission and that talking too much is a  _serious_ no. "Shut down the robots. I'm only going to ask once." Just by the tone of her voice, Peter feels the need to comply and when he gets a look at her eyes — the glowing red orbs that narrow — he's downright  _terrified_ , and he's on Wanda's side. Spencer and Alistair have the same sentiment. They gesture toward the other room. "We have Spencer and Alistair. We're ending this. Move."

The two Smythes stagger through the other open doorway. It looks like a much less advanced version of the building complex back at Smythe Industries. The technology isn't as nice and the space is pretty limited. This room is a lot messier than Smythe Industries, as well. What strikes Peter as odd is what appears to be a pool in the center of this room. Only, it's not pool water. It's this thick, almost green substance. Though Peter doesn't know what the substance is, Peter's spidey-senses start going off. 

Wanda is leading Spencer and Alistair toward one of the computers when Peter asks, "What is that?"

Spencer laughs. "Just a little experiment." Yep, that's not good.

"Don't worry about it, Peter," Wanda says. She turns to look at Alistair and Spencer. " _Shut the robots off_."

"Wanda, I really think we should—" Peter starts.

There's no time to continue. "Wanda, Peter, that bot we were fighting got away from us. It's coming to you!" comes Sam's hoarse, exhausted voice. 

That same second, the wall bursts apart. The spidey-senses activate Peter's reflexes just in time for Peter to leap to the side and miss a huge brick that would've probably broken every bone in his body. There's no need for Wanda to move since her powers make her basically invincible and the Smythes scatter apart. Peter picks up one of the fallen bricks and hurls it toward the Spider-Slayer's face. Peter rolls over just in time to miss a laser. One of the computers gets hit instead and it burst into flames. Peter catches Alistair and Spencer Smythe trying to sneak out of the room behind the Spider-Slayer. They're going to get away. They're going to —

Nope. They are not going to get away. Wanda bends the Spider-Slayer backwards, and the Smythes are about to get crushed. "Don't worry. I got you guys!" Peter yells. Using his webs, he yanks the Smythes out of the way. Alistair turns to glare at Peter. "Hey! You could at least thank—" 

Peter is interrupted with lasers going off. Wanda tackles Peter to the ground, her powers creating an impenetrable shell around the two of them. The lasers ricochet, violently. Lights are being broken. Walls are shattering. Computers are burning to pieces. As though by luck, the lasers must have hit whatever Spencer or Alistair are using to control the bots because the Spider-Slayer convulses. It sways and then crashes, not straight back like Peter hoped but straight toward Alistair. He leaps aside but in turn he loses his footing and falls straight into that pool. Whatever that substance is stops the apparent scream from escaping Alistair's wide open mouth. The sloshing chemicals fizzle as it comes in contact with human skin. 

"No!" Spencer screams. He launches himself toward Alistair but stops short just as his son is submersed into the substance. Spencer turns to Wanda and Peter. "Please! Save him!" 

Peter doesn't think. Who cares that these people tried to kill him? His webbing is fortunately strong enough against whatever chemical is in the pool because he manages to get a good grip on Alistair. Peter's strength alone isn't enough to drag Alistair out. "Wanda, help!" He yells. Wanda bits down on her lip. She illuminates the green substance and begins forcing it to the opposite end of the pool. It's weird watching as the green chemical gathers and jerks around in a ball of red, slowly building up on the left. Now that Peter doesn't have to fight the green substance, he gets Alistair out in now time. 

"Wanda, Peter, report! Did you get Alistair and Spencer Smythe?" Steve yells over comms. 

"Why did these things just drop dead?" Tony asks. 

Neither Wanda nor Peter have the stomach to speak. Peter won't go into detail because he can't look that long but whatever that chemical clearly isn't meant for human contact. At the very least, the chemical is acidic and did a real number on Alistair's skin. The worst part is that Alistair Smythe is still  _very_ much alive. 

"Wanda,  _report!"_ Steve says again. 

There are footsteps coming from behind. Peter's spidey-senses don't go off so it can't be a threat. Sam and Bucky stagger inside, heaving out large gasps for breath. When they catch sight of Alistair, they both swear. "Jesus..." Sam says. "Steve, send immediate medical attention." 

"Why?! Who's hurt?" Steve asks.

"Alistair Smythe. I don't know what happened man, just do it," Sam says. "You!" Sam turns to Spencer Smythe, who's sobbing beside his barely conscious son. "What the hell is that stuff?"

"It's a chemical compound we're trying build. We're going to use against  _him_ _!"_ Spencer says, thrusting his hand in Peter's direction. 

Peter raises his eyebrows. "Okay, not cool."

The conversation doesn't continue because Tony and Steve burst into the room. They stagger backwards just as Sam and Bucky did when they catch sight of Alistair. "Wanda, get Peter out of outside," Tony commands. 

She nods, more of a jerk of her head rather than actual comprehension. "Let's go home," she says. She puts a hand on Peter's shoulder. "Our work is done here."

The following events happen in a rush. Peter has a throbbing headache so he can hardly comprehend the Avengers and the emergency medics swirling around Peter. Wanda removes Peter from the situation for the most part. She takes him outside, away from the broken building and Alistair's destroyed body. When Steve and Nat are finished talking things over with the Department of Damage Control and with coordinating Spencer's transfer to the Raft Prison (why the government thinks using that prison isa good idea, Peter doesn't know), Steve sends Nat home while he sticks around to make sure Alistair doesn't escape. Peter doesn't understand why Steve is so concerned about Alistair trying to escape because it's pretty evident he's in no condition to do such a thing. 

According to Steve's pretty distressed phone call, Helen Cho met Steve at the hospital to operate on Alistair. Despite Helen Cho working her hardest and the ER physicians doing everything they could with the little information Spencer Smythe could give on the chemical substance, Alistair doesn't make it. It crushes Peter from the inside out to hear the news. Someone died on Peter's hands. Sure, it was the bad guy, and sure Peter and Wanda did what they could to save Alistair Smythe. It still sucks. It still makes Peter feel numb the entire time he's sitting at the compound eating a burger with the other Avengers. It still sends Peter this shiver of guilt as he thinks about Spencer Smythe, and how terrible he must feel, too. At the very least, no one dares to tell Peter he shouldn't feel guilty about Alistair's death.  _Everyone_ can understand why Peter is taking this hard. No one has died when Spider-Man gets involved. Not a civilian, and not the bad guys. Peter prides himself in that fact and now it's  _ruined_.

Right now, Peter is sitting by himself on the rooftop just thinking. He's alone, and he's just staring at the vast emptiness of the open fields and the trees. It gives him some comfort to think that Peter tried to save Alistair, except it makes him more terrified when he thinks that that chemical substance was supposed to kill Peter. Jesus. What a way to die. As he starts to think about him dying, he gives Aunt May other call. She doesn't know about Alistair dying and she especially shouldn't know about how personal Peter is taking it. Peter already told May he's safe. The sheer sound of May's voice is comforting enough. 

"Are you coming home tonight?" May asks.

Peter shakes his head. "Nah. There's supposed to be some press conference tomorrow morning and Spider-Man is expected to make an appearance. I don't really feel like doing a press conference, though," Peter admits. 

"I guess it's just business..." May says.

"Yeah, I know. It's just—" Peer stops. He turns around to see Bucky walking toward Peter. It isn't like Peter and Bucky have a lot of one-on-one conversations so Peter assumes it's important. "Hey. What's going on?"

"Do you mind if I join you?" Bucky asks. "Sorry. I don't want to interrupt anything." 

"If you need to go Peter, I'd understand," May says. 

"Uh, okay. Love you, May," Peter says. He puts his cell phone back into his pocket and turns to look at Bucky. "What's going on? Did Spencer Smythe give you guys anything new?"

Bucky shakes his head. "No, no. Nothing like that." He goes to sit down beside Peter. "I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"Oh, uh, yeah, I'm good," Peter says. One thing that Peter has realized about Bucky is that he's far from an open book, but it's pretty obvious Bucky doesn't believe Peter. "Really man. It's not a big deal. This is something I have to get used to."

"Shouldn't be, though," Bucky says. "We all understand what you're going through. Look, this may not be what you want to hear, but you can't save everyone Peter. You'll try and trying is what makes you a hero." Bucky stops for a long second. His words are just words, and right now, Peter can't comprehend what they mean at the moment. "Come inside when you're ready, alright?"

Peter tries to smile, but he doesn't think he'd over get used to death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone liked it! There'll definitely be more development on Peter reacts to death but that'll come in the next chapter!


	9. Please Welcome the Amazing Spider-Man

Chapter Nine: Please Welcome the Amazing Spider-Man

Come Saturday, all the Avengers can think or speak about is the upcoming press conference that afternoon. Peter didn't get a lot of sleep that night so he wakes up with dark bags under his eyes. He spent most of the night thinking about Alistair. What would the press say about Smythe's death? Would they say it didn't matter since Smythe was _technically_ the bad guy? What would the Sokovia Accords say about this? Would they send any of the Avengers to  _jail_ for what happened?

Outside, Steve and Tony are sitting at the kitchen table over a cup of coffee. When Peter stumbles inside, they straighten out. Tony goes over to Peter's side. "You doing alright, kid?" He asks. "You want something to eat?"

Peter shrugs. "Nah. I'm okay," he says. Peter goes to sit next to Tony at the kitchen table. Tony ignores what Peter says because he pushes a bowl of cereal in front of Peter. "So, what's the plan today? Just the press conference?"

Tony nods. "Yeah. Probably gonna have to fill out some paperwork, too. Don't worry. I got it cleared with Secretary Ross that you can just sign your name as Spider-Man. There'll be no identity reveals today." Peter never really thought about having to reveal his identity but, at the very least, it's one less thing Peter has to worry about. 

"So, am I going to have to answer a lot of questions? Or..." Peter asks. "And what am I supposed to wear?"

"You'll wear your Iron-Spider suit. And I told them they can ask you two direct questions," Tony says. "And if you don't feel comfortable with answering certain questions, you don't have to. These press conferences aren't that big of a deal. I do these all the time. They'll ask about the point of the mission, what we're going to do about the damaged building, how Spider-Man is going to move forward now that the Spider-Slayers are gone, what will happen to Spencer or Alistair. Honestly, Steve and I will be doing most of the answering."

Peter only nods. The last press conference that had anything to do with the Avengers (since their previous missions have been strictly undercover) was during the civil war where Black Panther redacted his outraged statement against Team Cap and when Iron-Man made an official statement that his and Steve's issues were pretty much resolved. All Peter can think about are the cameras being shoved into Tony and Steve's faces and the abrasive reporters screaming questions at Tony. Hopefully, this press conference won't be anything like that.

Before the press conference, all the Avengers are sent to the medical department where Helen Cho gives them all physicals. No one had severe injuries, which makes sense given the fight wasn't too crazy. Peter has some bruises on his ribs but that's it. Besides Sam needing some stitches on his bottom lip, everyone leaves with a clean bill of health. Wanda makes Peter some soup for lunch, which is way too spicy for Peter's taste but he still eats it without complaining, and then it is time for Peter to get dressed for the press conference. Because he is the only one who has a secret identity, Peter is the only one wearing his actual suit. The rest are dressed in formal attire: black slacks, button-ups or dresses.

The press conference room is near the front entrance where Tony kept the Iron-Spider suit. Peter stands, rocking back and forth and looking at the line of cars parked out front. The idea of getting in front of reporters willingly is terrifying and now, staring at the other Avengers, makes this event seem much more surreal. "You ready kid?" Tony asks. He puts his hand on Peter's back.

Peter nods. "Yeah — yeah, I guess."

Happy pulls the door open for the Avengers and, as Steve takes the first step into the press room, Peter hears the sound of cameras rapidly clicking. Supposedly, the Avengers are supposed to walk out by order of seniority, though the order is slightly whack. It makes sense for Steve, Tony and Nat to go first but Vision gets priority over Sam and Bucky, and those two get priority over Wanda. Peter goes out last, however. His heart is racing.  _Stay calm, Parker. Just sit in the corner and stay silent_. He follows Wanda silently.

Since Peter has never been asked to participate in a press conference, he has never been in this part of the compound. It is a wide open room primarily comprised of rows upon rows of chairs. The Avengers are sitting on a stage in front of a table covered with a blue plastic table cloth and name tags in front of everyone; Peter's tag just says _Spider-Man_. When Peter comes into view, the reporters and cameraman go crazy. They stand up from their chairs, snapping photos and wildly yelling out questions, such as "who are you?" or "how does feel to partake in your first Avengers mission?" Peter's senses start going crazy, a side effect of the spider bite. He feels slightly tempted to mute  _everything._

Peter leans into Wanda's ear, "Is it normally this crazy?" 

Wanda shrugs. "It depends on the mission. Meeting a new team member always excites the press." She looks over at Steve now, who is standing up and taking hold of the microphone.

"Thank you for joining us. I'm sure you all have plenty of questions, but if you would kindly allow for our general statement first." Steve says. Steve looks slightly out of his comfort zone in the suit and tie and sitting in front of a panel full of reporters but he smiles kindly, and Peter really has to give the older ( _oldest)_ Avenger props. "Friday night, the Avengers team went on an Accords sanctioned—" Peter didn't know that. Now that he's thinking about it, Peter doesn't really do much with the Sokovian Accords, "—mission to Morgan City, Louisiana where we had intel that Spencer and Alistair Smythe were hiding out. As you know, the intel was correct. The Avengers in front of you were the ones who took part in the mission, including Spider-Man, the newest member of the team." Feigned applause. Peter gives an uncomfortable wave to the crowd, and the reporters go crazy. Steve smiles. "The mission ended with no civilian casualties, an admittedly decent amount of property damage to the warehouse in which Alistair and Spencer Smythe were hiding and the only casualty from this mission was Alistair Smythe, himself. The only details we are giving out about his death at the moment is that one of the spider-slayers that was destroyed in a fight careened itself toward where Alistair was standing and he slipped into a pool of acidic chemicals. We will not answer any questions about his death at the time. We are now open for questioning," Steve says.

Peter isn't sure how he feels about keeping Alistair Smythe's death off limits. Isn't the point of these press conferences and, more specifically, the Sokovian Accords supposed to be about investigating shady stuff going on with the Avengers, like people dying? Sure, Steve told the truth but still.

Clearly, the reporters don't find that surprising. As soon as Steve goes to sit down, reporters start wildly throwing their hands up in the air and shouting to get called on. This is apparently Tony's department. He stands up and points toward one of the reporters in the front row. "You in the red dress. What's your question?" 

"What's going to happen to Spencer Smythe now?" the reporter asks.

"Spencer Smythe is currently in custody with the DODC," Tony says. He speaks firmly and confidently, hardly even blinking under the constant flickering lights of cameras flashing. "He's going to be given a psych evaluation, naturally and be given a proper legal defense. In the meantime, he will be kept at the Raft Prison where we store criminals related to Sokovian Accords sanctioned missions." The word  _raft_ creates a frenzy amongst the reporters. More shouting and screaming and outcries. Peter even notices a grimace coming from Wanda and Sam, the only current Avengers who were once inhabitants of that awfully terrifying establishment. Tony holds his hands up.

"Why are you still using the Raft Prison?" another reporter asks. "I thought you were against that."

"The Raft Prison, for all intents and purposes, is where we isolate extremely dangerous criminals," Tony says. "This is just where the government has decided to keep them at the present time. The operations of the Raft Prison are out of our hands, but as you know, Steve and I do make it a personal effort to keep the conditions... _humane_."

"What do you plan on doing about the damage caused in Morgan City?"

The questions went on like this. Logistics about the mission. The recovery and aftermath the DODC and the Avengers plan on doing. Peter doesn't like the game of politics, especially when these press conferences are often times filled with empty promises and designed just to gain trust from the citizens. That being said, neither Steve nor Tony are politicians, which gives Peter a little bit of comfort. Most questions remain with Steve, Nat and Tony. Sometimes, reporters will ask the others how much damage they themselves caused and they respond to best of their ability but isn't too grueling. Peter lets himself take a sigh of relief. No one seems to pay attention to Peter until the very end of the press conference.

"Spider-Man, why do you still wear a mask, especially when this whole thing started because you won't reveal your identity?" 

Peter blinks a couple of times to register that the reporter is actually talking to him. "Oh, uh—"

"Now remember, two questions, unless he's open for more," Tony says. The reporters just nod.

Whether Tony did that to simply remind the reporters, Peter isn't sure but at the very least, it gives Peter the chance to collect his thoughts. "Karen, activate voice modifier," Peter whispers under his breath. "It has nothing to do with me not wanting to take responsibility, like Alistair and Spencer claimed in their little video thing," Peter says. All the Avengers raise their eyebrows when they hear Peter's voice; Sam stifles a laugh. "Sure, me wanting to have a partially normal life is cool, too, but...it's more about my family and my friends. If Spencer or Alistair Smythe, for example, knew who I really was, what would happen to the people I care about — and I don't just mean the people sitting next to me." Apparently, Peter said the right thing because there's a thunderous applause.

"Do you credit most of your success to Mr. Stark's suit?" the reporter said.

That one surprises Peter. He shrugs. "I would say the Iron-Spider suit  _helps_. Let's face it, the grenade webs are kind of awesome." Sprinkled laughter. "But there are a lot of things that make me successful that don't necessarily have anything to do with the suit. The spider bite dialed my senses to eleven, so that makes me faster and stronger. And a lot of came with hard work, though, and having the right people to support you."

"Like Mr. Stark?"

Peter shakes his head (technically, this is the third question but Peter will let it slide). "Of course Mr. Stark has been there to help me all of last year and this year. You know, he's my mentor. And, uh, Wanda's been helping me out. She's great." Wanda smiles at that comment. "But it isn't just the Avengers. It's my a... _family_. They take care of me and they put up with probably more than they should. And my guy in the chair, of course."

"Guy in the chair?" One of the reporters repeat back. 

Peter chuckles. "Oh yeah. You know how Tony used to have JARVIS. You know, a little sidekick?" (Vision gives Peter a surprised and slightly confused look, even though Vision and JARVIS technically aren't the same person. Technically.) "My guy in the chair is more than that. Not just a sidekick but a partner. He watches my back above and beyond what the other Avengers do for me. He saved my ass so many times. A simple thank you will never,  _ever_ amount to everything my guy in the chair has done for me." The words come naturally, and Peter  _really_ hopes that Ned is watching.

Despite the fact that this is supposed to be a sincere thank you, the reporters stand up and start chanting, "Spider-Man! Spider-Man!"

Peter looks over at Wanda and says, "Do they do this with every new member?" 

"I think they just like you," she says. 

The press conference is over now. Tony stands up and demands for the mass of reporters to leave. Happy and a few other security members are helping to escort the reporters out the back door. In the same process, the Avengers start getting up and Peter walks out first. He takes a heavy sigh of relief now that he is no longer under the obscurity of the reporters. It didn't go as poorly as Peter thought it was going to be. The other Avengers seem to agree. They run off to their respective rooms to do whatever it is Avengers do when they're not fighting. 

After changing out of his Iron-Spider suit, Peter goes to the kitchen and starts rummaging through the fridge. He hears footsteps behind him. "Press conference made you hungry?" Peter turns around to see Tony coming to Peter's side. Tony is out of his suit. 

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, I am a growing teenage boy," Peter says.

"Well, don't eat too much. We're having a big party. Lots of guests. Catered food," Tony says. 

"A party? But... secret identity..." Peter says.

Tony smiles. "Relax. You can just tell everyone you're a Stark intern, make a little guest appearance as Spider-Man and then you're good. We already invited your aunt and this guy in the chair is supposedly coming as well." Peter can't help but smile and then grimace a second later when he thinks about how much Ned is gonna freak out when he sees the other Avengers. "Mr. Peter Parker could also invite this Gwen I've been hearing about."

Peter's eyes go wide. "W — what? Gwen?" 

"Didn't you mention a Gwen before?" Tony asks. "Who is she?"

"She — she's no one," Peter says. "Honestly."

Tony narrows his eyes. "Mmm, is Mr. Parker hiding a secret girlfriend from me?" 

"Stop calling me Mr. Parker. It's stressing me out," Peter says defensively. He racks his brain for something — anything — to distract Tony. "So about this party? Are there going to be people photographing me? Am I going to need to give news statements or something?"

Judging by Tony's expression, Tony could see through Peter's attempt to get out of answering questions but, fortunately, Tony doesn't push the subject. "No. It'll strictly be Avengers-related folks. It just requires a little bit of socializing on all of our parts. And good job at the press conference. Pretty sure everyone's going to be in love with you now." 

There's a part of Peter that wants to grin, feel good about himself. He just had his very first successful Avengers mission and an equally smooth little press conference that not only preserved his secret identity but, apparently, made the media go crazy for him, too. But there's a nagging thought in the back of his head. Spencer and Alistair Smythe. Peter technically doesn't  _need_ to care about what happens to them, especially after how they were plotting to kill Peter in a pretty gruesome way with a pretty nasty chemical solution. Peter isn't a robot, though. He has conscience and feelings and sympathy. "Mr. Stark? What's the Raft Prison like?" Peter asks. 

Tony frowns. "Oh. Um... taking into account that the Raft Prison is now able to withstand a super soldier trying to break in, it's supposed to be the most secure prison on earth. It can contain some powerful people..."

"Like former Avengers?" Peter asks. He isn't trying to be pushy or mean to Tony. Peter is just curious. Besides some of the news articles and a few glimpses of conversations here and there, Peter doesn't know a lot about the Raft Prison. 

Clearly Peter hit a soft spot. Tony bites down hard on his lip, "Look, kid, if you're going to sit here and lecture me about how immoral the Raft Prison is, I already know. I saw first hand what Wanda and Sam and Clint went through. I've been working to reinvent the Raft Prison, make it better, but that's out of our hands. That's Sokovian Accords business now. Not Avengers business."

The Sokovian Accords are another off topic conversation for the most part. Peter still hasn't signed the Accords, and the Accords are pretty thin ice right now, constantly being changed, Steve and Tony constantly having to go in to private meetings to  _argue_ on the side of the Avengers. 

"I've got to go make some calls right now," Tony says. "Why don't you get ready for the party?"

Tony pats Peter on the back and then goes off into the direction of his office. Peter draws in a deep breath, knowing that's the most information he's going to get from Tony; his curiosity isn't satiated but Peter isn't stupid enough to go ask Wanda or Sam what the Raft Prison was like. Peter goes back to his room and scrolls through his phone when he sees a text message from Ned. It's a link to Queen's local newspaper. The headlines read << _The Amazing Spider-Man: Local Hero, New Avenger_ _> >._ Peter grins. He thumbs through the article, the appraisal of Spider-Man making Peter feel better and better by the word.

Finally, he reaches to the end of the article when the reporter brings up Alistair Smythe and how thoroughly devastated Spencer feels. As he reads that last sentence, guilt seeps into every vein and bone and muscle in Peter's body. He picks up a piece of a paper, digs around for a pen with absolutely no idea what or why he's doing what he's doing, but he just starts pouring his explanations and apologies and questions on paper.  _I didn't reveal my identity because... Why would you want to kill me with that chemical? I'm sorry about your son. How can I help you?_ An outpour of emotions that has been building up ever since Tony took Peter to the memorial. He fills nearly an entire piece of paper before folding it up and stuffing it into an envelope. On the envelope, Peter addresses it to  _Spencer Smythe_.

Is it weird for Peter to be sending Spencer Smythe a letter? Probably. Guess it matter much for Peter because he knows he needs to get this out. He finds his cell phone and goes to FaceTime Tony. When he answers, Peter can tell he's exhausted. "Hey Peter, kind of busy right now. What's going on kid?"

"Hey, so hypothetically speaking if I wanted to send a letter to someone do you think you'd be able to get their address?" Peter asks. 

Tony raises his eyebrows. " _What?"_

"I just need an address. Or maybe you could hand deliver it?" 

"Hand deliver it where?" Tony asks.

Peter smiles sheepishly. "The Raft Prison..." 

There's a look of disbelief on Tony's face. "Why in the hell are you writing a letter to the Raft Prison? Peter, what is wrong? There is no one you need to contact in the Raft Prison!" 

"Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark, please just hear me out right now," Peter says; he speaks quickly in fear that Tony is about to hang up. "Look, there's a lot of things I need to say to Spencer and, look, _look,_ I promise I'll just be the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man who stays low to the grade. Please Mr. Stark, his son _died."_

There's a long pause, and it looks as though Tony Stark is trying to come up with a good response to Peter. Finally, Tony lets out a heavy sigh. "Bring your little letter to the party and I'll take care of it," Tony says. He ends the FaceTime.

Feeling accomplished, Peter spends his day cooped up his room, trying to get some of his homework done, even though his brain is too distracted to sit there and read some research article for his history class online. When it's time to start getting ready for the party, Peter finds that Tony laid out a nice button up and slacks on his bed, considering that Peter doesn't have any formal clothes lined up at the compound. May and Ned arrive about an hour before the party starts. Peter waits by the front door, only catching a few glimpses of some of the beautiful new decorations and party set-ups Tony is laying out in the main hall. Around Peter, caterers and party planners are running around the compound, Pepper hurrying after them with her clipboard and high heels. Lucky for him, everyone is so preoccupied with their own lives to care about the awkward teenager standing by the front doors. 

Ned and May arrive an hour before the other guests. Compared to what Peter is wearing, Ned looks underdressed: a pair of black jeans and a gray t-shirt under an unbuttoned maroon dress shirt. The loveable fedora sits on top his combed and gelled down hair. Beside him, May comes marching straight to Peter, a colorful dress on and hair in a loose curls. There's a look of relief on her face. She pulls Peter into a warm, tight hug. "I'm glad you're okay," May says. She doesn't necessarily sound incredibly emotional. This sort of reunion between Peter and May is so normalized, it doesn't feel significant. It feels _routine._

"So where are the other Avengers, dude?!" Ned exclaims when May pulls away from Peter. 

Peter shrugs. "I haven't seen them in a while actually. Probably sleeping or getting ready for the party," Peter says, dismissively. "Hey, Ned, just a side note, try not to freak out around the other Avengers. I don't want you to scare them or anything." 

"Sure, sure," Ned says.

The hour between when May and Ned arrive and when the party is supposed to start passes quickly. Most of the Avengers have already gone to the party so Peter, Ned and May walk by themselves to the main foyer in the Avengers Compound. Despite Tony promising this party is supposed to be a low-key social affair, the compound is decked out with glowing lights, bartenders walking around in red vests holding up trays of appetizers or beverages, and even a professional pianist is quietly playing in the corner. New pool tables, chairs and round tables are set up, almost all of which are occupied by people Peter doesn't recognize. 

"Wow..." Ned says.

"This is..." May begins.

" _Awesome!"_ Ned says. "Oh, oh! Look! Look!" Ned holds his hand up and points to Steve, Sam and Bucky laughing over some beer and playing pool. "It's — it's Falcon!And the Winter Soldier! And...  _no way! Captain America!_  Dude, this is awesome. Come on. Let's go socialize!" Ned races toward Steve, Sam and Bucky. Peter and May glance at each other, sheepishly, and go off to follow Ned. Peter's friend comes to a skidding halt in front of the three Avengers. "Oh my god, this is so —  _dude!"_

Peter's face flushes red. He turns to look at his Avengers superior. Sam and Steve are mildly amused but Bucky looks to be in absolute shock. Peter pulls his best friend away and whispers urgently, "Ned, dude, what did I tell you about freaking out in front of my friends?" 

Ned ignores him. "Dude, who cares?! It's the Avengers. They're practically gods!"

"No, no, no, I think you're looking for Thor," Bucky says.

Sam chuckles. "Hey man. Sam Wilson. You must be Peter's little friend." Sam shakes Ned's hand; Ned looks utterly unresponsive, so unresponsive it makes Peter a little nervous. "You wanna meet some other Avengers? Don't worry. I'll take care of him," Sam says. Ned turns to Peter, hyperventilating as he follows Sam down a flight of stairs.

That leaves May, Peter, Steve and Bucky. At first, there's nothing but awkward silence. Steve and Bucky are looking at each other, thoroughly confused, and then back at Peter, though Peter can't do much to ease the uncomfortableness. "Steve Rogers, ma'am," Steve says to finally break the silence. He extends his hand and gives May a smile. It's hard not to be feel warm and happy when you're staring down at the world's most patriotic person. Look at him. He's Captain America, dressed up in a suburban-dad-with-a-beard model sort of way giving May the most American dream smile ever. 

And all May does in response is give Steve a half-hearted smile. She loosely shakes his hand. "So you're the guy who beat Peter up when he was just fourteen?"

" _May!"_ Peter hisses. "Mr. America — Captain America —  _sir,_ she didn't mean..."

"It's okay," Steve says. He holds up his hands. "There's really no point in me trying to deny it. That was me. But to be fair, it wasn't like I didn't leave with a couple of nasty bruises after that fight, either." That comment didn't do much to make May feel any better, but at the very least it made Peter smile. The only thing he normally hears about his Captain America fight is ' _Cap could've killed you if he really wanted to'_ or something like that.

"So where's your really big friend?" May asks. She turns to look at Peter. "Didn't you say he had a really big friend or something?" 

Steve smiles. "Oh. Giant-Man?"

"What the hell is Giant-Man?" May says. 

"Ant-Man but bigger..." Steve says. He looks over at Bucky and Peter for help. "Look, May, it wasn't like—"

"I don't want to hear it," May says, holding her hands. She turns to look at Bucky, who practically curls into himself under her stare. She opens her mouth to say something and then just shakes her head. "Well, I'm very glad that you guys came to help Peter at Smythe Industries so I guess you're...  _semi_ -forgiven for what happened in Germany. Well, technically if you guys didn't taunt being an Avenger over Peter's head he wouldn't have gone alone so..."

"How do you even know that?!" Peter exclaims. He steps in between May and Steve. "Okay, okay, why don't we play a game of poker? Or — or..." 

"I'm gonna get a drink," May says. May turns to Peter. "I'll be right back."

There's a long second of silence after May departs before Bucky finally says, "I wish I could get drunk." 

"What the hell just happened?" Peter says. His brain feels like he's about to explode. Honestly, Peter would prefer going through the mental pain of trying to understand girls right now then have to deal with May talking to the other Avengers, especially if  _that_ is going to be the way all the other conversations are going to transpire. 

"How come she got mad at us? Sam's little flying machine flew you out a window," Bucky says, sighing in exasperation. Bucky looks over at the bar. "You might want to hurry up. May is talking to Nat and Wanda."

Peter looks over. Sure enough, May is by the bar, leaning against the counter and thumbing through one of the little menus. She is glancing at the menu casually in between talking to Nat and Wanda. Though Peter can't hear the conversation, it looks as though the conversation seems to be going a positive direction since the two Avengers May is chatting up don't look as uncomfortable as Steve and Bucky did. Peter draws in a sigh of momentary relief. "I'm gonna go interrupt their conversation before May says something embarrassing," Peter says. "I'll talk to you guys later, I guess." 

So many people are crowding around the pool table and starting to gather around the bar that Peter feels as though he's pushing people around just to get across to where May standing. Fortunately, Peter is just an average teenager right now, no one stops to ask him a billion questions (or even bother to look at Peter right now). "May! Hey! Hey! How's it — what are you guys talking about?" Peter asks.

The three women look at each other before they start laughing. "We're telling May some workout tips," Natasha says. "What'd you think we were talking about?" Nat adds when Peter lets out a sigh of relief.

"Uh, nothing..." Peter says.

Someone puts their hands on Peter's shoulders. Tony. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything right now," Tony says. "Wanda, hope you're staying off the alcoholic menu right now." 

"You're not twenty-one?" May asks.

"Not for another couple of months," Wanda says. 

"But we'll have a big celebration then," Tony promises. He turns to Peter and then says, "Unfortunately, you won't be invited, Mr. Sixteen-Year-Old. But have you ladies seen the drink menus here? It's an open bar, so order whatever you went." For a brief moment, May, Nat and Wanda are preoccupied with talking to the bartender. While they're occupied, Tony turns to look at Peter. "So, where's that letter you were telling me about?" 

"Uh here," Peter says. He shoves his hand into the depths of his pocket and then puts the little envelope into Tony's hand. Judging by Tony's expression, he looks half-irritated, half-worried. "Mr. Stark, please, I want you to give this to him." 

Tony just shrugs and then pockets the letter. "Fine. If that's what you really want..." The other adults are bored of the drink menu. "May. Always nice to see you." 

It looks as though May just tasted something bitter (and Peter's stomach clenches up because he's terrified May is about to yell at Tony) but then her lips stretch into a smile. "Tony." The two adults shake hands. "Thanks for sending me the video from Peter's suit. Glad to know Peter actually followed instructions." May turns to look at Peter and Wanda. "And, again, thanks for making sure Peter doesn't accidentally kill himself..."

Wanda smiles. "It's no problem."

"I told you I would have nothing to do," Peter grumbles.

"Well, I appreciate it nonetheless," May says. 

"And you, Mr. Parker, need to go make a special guest appearance as Spider-Man," Tony whispers. "Go get dressed. Wait by the top floor. I'll announce your arrival."

"Right," Peter says.

He scurries through the crowd at the party, bounds up the stairs and then races off to his bedroom. Off goes the awfully uncomfortable button-up shirt and pants. Peter yanks the Iron-Spider suit on.  _This isn't supposed to be a little show off event. Spider-Man isn't a party trick_ , Peter keeps telling himself. _Just a little guest appearance_. At the same time, however, wouldn't it be kind of awesome if Spider-Man emerged by doing a little flip off the top staircase and land in a superhero pose? Peter races to get to the main floor. Everyone is gathered around Tony, who is holding a microphone. Peter doesn't quite hear what Tony just said but it still makes the audience laugh. 

"And now, without further ado, let's please introduce the newest member of the Avenger's team: the Amazing Spider-Man!" Tony says.

That's Peter's cue. For a second, he contemplates just strolling down the stairs but in the most boss-ass way ever. Nah. That's too boring, too  _simple_ for Spider-Man. So Peter does the most Spider-Man thing he can think of: a little backflip off the ledge. He manages to stick the landing beautifully right beside Tony. The crowd laps it up. Easy to please. Almost everyone is on their feet right now, shamelessly clapping and snapping photos. Tony is half-amused, and Peter can see Sam and Bucky shaking their heads. 

"Always a show-off, huh?" Tony asks.

"Learned it from the best," Peter says. He nudges Tony's arm. 

"Go on," Tony says. "Address the crowd. They  _love_ you.  _Obviously."_

Peter turns to look at the audience, and he feels strangely like he's back in his communications class trying (and failing) to give an impromptu speech. He clears his throat. "Activate voice modifier," Peter whispers. 

"Right away, Peter," Karen says. "And I detect your heart beat raising. Don't be nervous Peter. Spider-Man can do no wrong in their eyes."

Peter still doesn't relax, especially since he doesn't completely agree with Karen. "Uh, thanks guys," Peter says. The deep voice only startles May and Ned; everyone seems to have grown accustomed to the idea that Spider-Man has a deeper voice than Captain America. "Look, it really means a lot for you guys to be supporting me and the Avengers and everything... and, um, yeah, hope you guys are enjoying yourself."

That is a half-assed speech at best, but everyone claps anyway. No one seems to care that Spider-Man isn't perfect and polished and eloquent. It's back to drinking and playing and talking. Spider-Man makes his way around the party, going from table to table with Iron Man and discussing the suit, upcoming and previous missions and working pretty diligently to dodge any questions pertaining to Peter's life before Spider-Man, as well as Peter's personal life. Clearly, everyone cares more about finding out who the guy under the mask is. Peter isn't ready for that secret yet. He doesn't know when people will start to accept that,  _if_ ever.

When Tony decides it's time for Peter Parker to come back, it's a miracle Peter manages to escape back to his room and change. Just like that, he's back to common ground where no one cares much about the teenager from Queens who just got lucky enough to be chosen as Tony Stark's intern. Sometimes, he wishes people cared just as much about the real him as they did about Spider-Man. Like that's ever going to happen. Either way, Peter has an enjoyable enough night: he and Ned throw back a few sodas and a lot of the catered food (its expensive fish and meat and foreign side dishes, luxurious food that are  _way_ too expensive to be considered common meals for Peter). Peter plays a couple of rounds of pool with Sam. Peter wins, though he's pretty sure Wanda may have helped him win. He ends on the night on a good note, too. When the other guests are gone, all the Avengers gather around just to talk. They ask Ned and Peter a lot of questions about high school, though high school isn't _that_ interesting. May drives Peter and Ned back that night, and Peter falls asleep feeling genuinely happy, like he had a little family party that went so well, he never wanted it to end. 

* * *

Peter has a fantastic week following the party. Monday's normally a bitch to Peter: early mornings, the realization he forgot to do a homework assignment and trying to go through school with little to no sleep. Not this weekend. Expecting nightmares, Peter surprisingly sleeps like a baby Saturday and Sunday night. That makes him feel slightly nervous. If Peter is still  _Peter_ , shouldn't he feel pretty panicked and upset and  _terrible_ for Alistair's death? At the very least, the letter Peter sent gives him some comfort. Must have been that. Peter keeps telling himself that as he slides out of his bed, takes a shower and then gets ready for his day of school. At school, there is a pop quiz in Spanish and Peter absolutely nails it. No doubt. And during lunch, Peter gets Michelle to crack a smile at some back-handed joke he says to Ned. 

Things with Gwen aren't half bad, either. At least Peter thinks it's going alright. She only probes a little bit about what Peter was doing this weekend (fortunately, she won't ever find out about Peter being at the little Avengers party). Satisfied with Peter's half-hearted "it's a family emergency" response, Gwen changes the topic to a rescheduled date. She plans for something Wednesday night. Something simple, like going out for dinner and then doing some light studying. Peter doesn't mind doing that and he's even a little excited because he wants to do some Decathlon studying with Gwen (Michelle asked Peter to get some studying in to make up for the practices he's missed). Come Wednesday, Peter expects a chill night in with Gwen, but he gets the opposite instead. 

That's right. Peter wanted a night in but while going to the grocery store, there's a minor little car chase going on. Spider-Man takes care of it. Only, that's not the end of Spider-Man's night. A little store and car robbery there and before you know it, Peter has to cancel on Gwen. Some pathetic excuse about feeling sick. He feels pretty bad, especially since Gwen has been nothing but nice and forgiving to Peter. It's a repeat of last year with Liz. Peter is thoroughly relieved when Gwen just replies << _Don't worry about it. Feel better. Call me if you want me to bring over some soup:) >>. _The fact that Gwen is completely chill about Peter ditching _again_ makes him feel infinitely worse. Stopping only briefly from swinging from house to house, Peter texts back something about making it up to her this Friday.

The night ends with successfully apprehending some criminals and Peter is off to his home. He and May are now bypassing the whole "why are you out late?" conversation so he slips into his bedroom unbothered. A little homework and then Peter is off to bed. It's a true sigh of relief when Gwen doesn't question Peter on being sick the next day, either. "I'm so sorry," Peter keeps saying at lunch. It's weird and new for Gwen to be sitting with Peter, Ned and MJ but it gives Peter the chance to apologize at the very least. 

"It's okay," Gwen says, laughing. "I can make reservations this Friday for dinner. How does that sound?"

Peter smiles. He supposes Spider-Man can take the night off. "Sounds great. I promise I won't cancel."

"Famous last words," MJ mutters.

Peter shoots MJ an unamused look but Gwen fortunately doesn't see or hear anything. "Okay, great! I'll pick you up!" She gives Peter a light kiss (his face goes redder than Thor's cape) and she's off. 

May is more excited and nervous about Peter going on a date than Peter is. She rummages through his closet, not impressed with his selection of semi-formal attire and eventually decides that what Peter wore at the Avengers party will be what Peter wears on his date. She combs his hair, picks out a bottle of cologne that used up be Uncle Ben (they feel pretty reminiscent all of a sudden) and she makes a huge fuss when she finds out he is wearing the Spider-Man suit on his clothes. "No! You can't wear that tonight, Peter!" May exclaims.

"May, May, come on!" Peter says. "Look, I need it just in case something bad happens. Remember the diner after the decathlon thing? That would've been _very_  bad if I didn't have my suit!" 

"You've already bailed on her twice! This is just an excuse in the waiting," May says. 

"No! May, it's not—"

Their conversation ends with the sound of the doorbell. Peter and May turn to look at each other before scrambling to answer the door. "Fix your tie!" May hisses as she yanks the door open. 

"Hi!" Gwen says, excitedly. She looks beautiful no doubt, dressed in this off the shoulder denim dress, some black wedges and a couple of necklaces. Her blonde hair is pulled into a loose side braid. "I didn't know Peter could dress up."

"I _know!"_  May says. "And you look fantastic! Peter, doesn't she?"

"What? Yeah? She looks — yeah..." Peter stammers. 

Gwen blushes. "You ready to go?" 

"Yeah," Peter says. "Bye May!" Peter closes the door behind Gwen. They walk down the flight of stairs in silence until Peter clears his threat and then says, "Uh, you do look... you do look nice." _Did it just become seriously hot in this room?_

"Thanks," Gwen says. Peter opens the apartment front door for Gwen. She's on the richer side so Peter is still in awe every time he sees Gwen's new environmentally-friendly Prius (so maybe that's not a crazy expensive, nice vehicle — _Peter thinks —_ but it's still nicer than Peter's car). "It's not too far," Gwen says as she veers out of the street parking spot she somehow managed to nab in front of Peter's apartment.

She isn't kidding either. After listening to five minutes of Indy music, Gwen pulls into the parking lot where Peter sees an old-fashioned little restaurant, brick walls, a blue awning, lots of plants. Gwen parks her car into the closest spot at the restaurant. Peter moves fast enough to get to Gwen's side of the car before she gets the chance to get out. Open the car door. Help her out of the seat. Just like Aunt May told him. Gwen smiles at his chivalry. Peter goes to open the restaurant door for Gwen. It’s a homey, little Italian restaurant. Vines wrap around the support beams, low-hanging lamps provide minimal lighting overhead the table tops. The hostess at the front, dressed in a black apron gives Gwen and Peter a welcoming smile. "What can I do for you two?"

"Uh, we have a reservation under Stacy," Peter says.

The hostess messes with something on the computer and then smiles. "Looks like your table is all ready," she says. "Follow me." She grabs hold of the menu and starts maneuvering the two teenagers over to their table. It's a little private spot in corner of the restaurant. Twinkle lights are wrapped around the walls and the posts, and a small pot of flowers sit on the center of the table. "Your waiter will over in just a minute for your drinks." The hostess sets the menu down and takes off.

Based upon the appearance of the venue, Peter is honestly scared to look at the prices on the menu. He is pleasantly surprised, however, to find that bread is complimentary and the most expensive dish is only $23. 

"Everything looks good," Gwen says.

Peter nods. "Yeah. Have you been here with your family before?"

"Only a couple of times. My brother really likes this place," she says. Gwen glances back at the menu and glances over it. "If you need any recommendations, my parents really like the seafood pasta and my brother likes the risotto with vegetables." 

"What about you?"

"Come on. Nothing can top the garden burger," Gwen jokes.

Peter gives a half-hearted chuckle.  _Give her a chance. She deserves that_ , he tells himself, though for some reason he can't stop picturing what this date would be like if he was with Michelle. Probably talking about politics or something like that.  _Come on. Think about something you could both talk about_. "So, how is your volunteer club?" Peter asks.

"I'm not doing that anymore. I thought you told you about that," Gwen says. Whoops.

"Hey. My name is Eric. I'll be your waiter tonight," says a booming voice. The waiter is honestly huge, at least half a foot taller than Peter. He grins down at Gwen and Peter. "The specials today is the French onion soup and, for the main course, our special is halibut. Fresh off the market. Can I get you guys anything to drink besides water?"

They order their drinks and the waiter takes off. Peter is glad that the waiter came since it gives Peter the chance to collect his thoughts. He looks back at Gwen and smiles. "Uh, you look really nice." 

Gwen blushes. "Thanks. You don't clean up back yourself," she says. They make a couple of jokes back and forth and the banter feels only a little forced. Better than being  _completely_ uncomfortable. The waiter comes back and sets their drinks down and they order their food. "Going with the risotto, I see? Wonder who told you about that."

"Hope they aren't leading me astray," Peter jokes.

Gwen laughs. She pauses, glancing at the table for a second, before looking back up at Peter. Clearly something is on her mind. "Hey, Peter, um, really the reason why I wanted to have this dinner together was because I think you and I should talk..." 

"Talk?" Peter asks.  _Don't freak out. It's normal. It's normal. Talking is normal._ "Talk — talk about what?"

"Us," Gwen says. "What  _this_ means."

"Oh. Right..." Peter says. He looks away, feeling more and more guilty as he realizes he's absolutely dreading this conversation more than he should if he was really interested in Gwen.

"It's just that, I haven't done a lot of the dating stuff yet," Gwen says. Her fingers are brushing against Peter's lightly. "I just don't want this to go wrong, you know? And I'm really glad you're open to talking about this..."

Almost involuntarily, Peter is no longer focused on what Gwen is saying. The words of a stranger, clearly an older man, fills Peter's ears sharply. "Did you hear about what happened at the DODC morgue?" The man says gruffly. 

"The guy who everyone thought was dead?" comes a woman, possibly the man's wife. 

 _That doesn't sound good_. 

"Peter, are you paying attention right now?" Gwen asks. She waves her hands in front of Peter's eyes.

Peter tries to get himself to stop listening to the couple (that isn't easy, especially because his spidey-senses are practically commanding Peter to listen). He smiles at Gwen. "Sorry. Sorry. I, uh, I..." Peter loses his train of thought again. His phone is vibrating in his pocket. "Uh..." He reaches for his cell phone.

"No, don't worry," Gwen says, passively. At least that's what Peter thinks Gwen is saying. He doesn't know. "So anyway, there's this really important..."

Gwen's voice fades into darkness again. Peter is back to listening in to the couple's conversation. The gentleman lets out an exasperated sigh. "I guess it's good that the other Avengers are here because if corpses are coming back from the dead, there's going to be a nasty zombie apocalypse on our hands," he says. "How could they not check that he was dead?"

Peter can see out of the corner of his eyes, the woman shaking her head back and forth in exasperation. "It's obvious why they _thought_ he was dead. You heard the news. The poor man was submersed in acidic chemical—" 

"Shit!" Peter exclaims, loud enough to make the parents of the family beside Gwen and Peter to give him a dirty look. 

"What?" Gwen asks. 

"What?" Peter repeats, only half-heartedly. That's not good. That's really not good. He pulls out his cell phone. It is a text from Tony that reads << _Happy is picking you up from your current location. Stay where you are. Alistair Smythe is still alive_ >>. "Son of a..."

"Are you paying attention right now?" Gwen asks. "What is going on?"

"Look Gwen, I'm really sorry," Peter stammers. He scoots his chair out from under the table, but then he realizes that Happy is driving straight toward this restaurant. "It's just—"

"Are you bailing again?!" Gwen exclaims. "If you don't want to go out with me, that's fine. You could be an actual adult and just say that."

"No, no, it's not you..." Peter says, half-heartedly. He isn't that focused on trying to make Gwen feel better. Alistair Smythe's skin was practically burned off. How could he still be alive? Why can't people just stay dead? There is absolutely nothing wrong with that! "I just — Gwen, there's just something that I need..." 

"You are unbelievable!" Gwen exclaims. Despite the fact that Gwen and Peter are trying to speak quietly, some of the other people in the restaurant are turning to look. "Do you understand how rude you're being right now?" Peter's phone goes off again. Happy sent Peter a text saying that Happy will be here in fifteen minutes (how fast is Happy driving?). "Peter, get off you're phone. We're trying to have a conversation!"

"Gwen, something more important came up!" Peter says. Judging by Gwen's awe-struck face, Peter  _really_ said the wrong thing. "Oh no, no, no, no, no... I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that. It's just—"

"I don't want to hear it. No wonder Ned is only real friend you have!" Gwen says. Peter thinks that is a little uncalled for. "I hope you're happy doing whatever you have that's  _more important!"_

She picks up the glass water and splashes it all over Peter's face. He flinches as icy water hits his face and soaks his shirt. Peter blinks a couple of times, only to find that Gwen is madly storming out of the restaurant. Though they may have been inconspicuous before, practically everyone is staring at Peter now. He smiles awkwardly. "Bad breakup..." Peter mumbles before taking his seat. "At least it wasn't the soda..." Peter assumes he could have handled that situation a little better. Of course, dealing with Alistair Smythe still being alive is a little bit of a bigger deal than the date with Gwen but that doesn't stop Peter from feeling unbelievably guilty for bailing on her. Gwen is great, but maybe dating right now with a secret as big as Spider-Man isn't fair for both Peter and the girl.

Peter gets the check and pays just in time for him to meet Happy outside. Happy looks exhausted and unhappy but he sees how soaked Peter is, he starts laughing. "What happened to you?" Happy asks.

"First date..." Peter mutters. He gets into the backseat of the car. "Where are we going?"

Happy is still laughing as he speaks. "You got your suit, right?"

"Yeah..." Peter says.

"Back to the compound," Happy says. "We've got a lot of stuff to take care of." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note, I have no idea how old Wanda is supposed to be. I read somewhere that she was supposedly eighteen during civil war, which means she's twenty now. 
> 
> So, it's Marvel, which means no one actually dies. 
> 
> I planned out where I want to go with this story so I'm sad to say it's slowly starting to wrap up (but there's still a lot of action coming up). 
> 
> Don't forget to review, and hope you enjoyed the chapter.


	10. Peter’s (and Wanda’s) Worst Nightmare

Chapter 10: Peter’s (and Wanda’s) Worst Nightmare

The drive back to the compound is a long one — _longer_ than usual, Peter should say. Happy, who is normally a pretty astute driver, is gunning it, taking back roads wherever it would be faster, weaving in and out of traffic, tailgating and making sure that he makes the green light every time. Peter supposes it makes sense. Alistair Smythe is alive and out in the open, which means he’s probably going to come after the Avengers, especially since they just put his father in jail. What if he’s trying to track down Spider-Man _now?_ Peter lets out a shiver. _You have the suit,_ Peter reminds himself, _and Alistair Smythe doesn’t know who you are_. That only helps a little. Happy isn’t telling Peter anything, other than confirming Alistair isn’t dead. Right now is too dire of a situation for Happy or Tony to purposely be keeping Spider-Man in the dark so Peter assumes Happy isn’t telling Peter much because Happy doesn’t know anything.

As he waits for Happy to drive to the compound, Peter contemplates texting Gwen to apologize. Of course it’s Peter’s obligation to head to the compound right now and _of course_ Gwen has every right to be pissed at Peter for ditching again. It’s just Peter should have handled that situation a little bit better than he did. Come on. Saying that he had something more important to do was just cruel. Awful. _Merciless._ He opens up a text message and starts typing << _Hey Gwen, I’m really_ —  >>... He stops himself. No. This isn’t how Peter should apologize. Not over the phone at the very least. Gwen’s nice, and even if Peter isn’t that interested in going out with her or really if Peter can't handling  _dating_ , he should have still been more respectful. More mature. More like an adult. An apology over the phone just isn’t enough.

Deciding against texting Gwen, Peter calls May. She already heard the news about Smythe, and she’s frantic. “May, honestly,” Peter keeps saying in between her panicking, “I’m gonna be with the Avengers the entire time. Remember? The world’s most powerful beings? Don’t worry. Nothing is going to happen to me.” Still, Peter thinks that’s a little forced. He’s honestly pretty scared about what’s going to happen to him.

At the Avengers’ Compound, all the lights on the main floor are turned on. Happy barely put the car into park before Peter is already racing up the front door. Steve meets Peter there. “Hey,” Steve says. The oldest Avenger tries to give Peter a confident smile, only it isn’t convincing. Peter can tell that Steve is just as on edge. “I already contacted May so she knows you’re going to be with us this weekend.” Steve holds the door open for Peter and then leads the youngest Avenger into the living room. Everyone else is there: Nat, Bucky, Sam, Vision and Wanda — everyone _except_ for Tony, Peter now notices. They’re dressed in their uniforms, some pacing back and forth, others looking around uneasily.

“You guys must be used to this, right?” Peter asks. “People not staying dead?” Peter really isn’t trying to be funny. He’s just stating an observation.

Bucky shrugs. “Still doesn’t stop shocking the hell out of me every time someone manages to survive something like what Alistair Smythe went through.”

“I still don’t understand how this happened,” Wanda says.

“The DODC screwed up,” Sam responds. He’s shaking his head. “And now guess who has clean up their mess?”

“It doesn’t matter who’s fault it is,” Steve says.

“Hey, where’s Tony?” Peter butts in now that he has the chance.

“He got a call from Ross,” Natasha says. She points toward the hallway and, sure enough, Tony is leaning against the side of the wall, his forefingers pressed against his forehead in exasperation. “Judging by the fact that Tony hasn’t been saying much over the phone, the news probably isn’t great.”

Sam scoffs. “When is it ever great when Thaddeus Ross is calling us?” Sam says. More bitterness in his voice, and Peter knows why: first, Thaddeus Ross comes to the Avengers’ Compound to announce the creation and signing of the Sokovian Accords and then he comes to put Team Cap in jail. “It’s always ‘ _we need you to go do this but not this. And if you don’t kill someone the way we want, you’re going to_ —”

“Sam,” Steve says. The two look at each other for a long second and then Sam falls silent. “The situation is already bad. Let’s please not let the past make this situation even worse.”

“Too late for that,” Tony says. He emerges from the hallway, face red and eyebrows furrowed. Everyone turns to look at Tony. “We all thought that Alistair Smythe’s first priority would be to get the Spider-Slayers up and running again to attack one of our own. Turns out we were painfully, embarrassingly wrong. Surprise, surprise, Alistair Smythe was more interested in family reunions than he was in his little side projects.” It doesn’t Peter long to register what that means. “We’re not going to the DODC morgue anymore. We’re going to the Raft.”

There’s a long pause in which Tony’s words hang in the air. Then, _CRUNCH!_ Peter jumps, spidey-senses flaring up for just a moment. His eyes scan for a threat. Nothing. None of the other Avengers react the way that Peter did, though. He turns to look at whatever Tony and Steve are looking at. Afterwards, it doesn’t take long for Peter to figure out what happened. One of the glass vases sitting on a little coffee table in front of Wanda and Vision is shattered. Only, Steve and Tony aren’t looking at the vase. They’re looking at Wanda. She’s shaking, and not just a little shiver, but nearly convulsing. And she’s hyperventilating. Vision has his arm around Wanda’s waist, watching her, unsure about _how_ to react to this sort of thing. Peter doesn’t even know how to react. _What’s going on with her?_

Before any of the other Avengers can move or speak, Wanda snaps out of it. Her breathing evens out as she stumbles off the couch. “I — I’m sorry,” Wanda stammers. “I didn’t mean to — these _stupid powers_. I — let me get some towels.”

Tony stops Wanda. “You don’t have to go. You know that, right?” Those words shed light on the situation. Peter understands. Peter _gets it_. It’s more than just not being fond of the idea of going back to a place that imprisoned her. It’s about being _terrified_ to go back.

Wanda gives this weak smile. “Yeah, I do. I’ll just go get something to clean this up.”

“No, no. It’s okay,” Tony says.

He doesn’t give Wanda a chance to protest because he’s already going toward the kitchen and returns a second later with a bucket and some towels. Steve and Tony work in silence to clean up the mess while the others stare down at awkwardly. Peter only watches Wanda. Her expression is blank, and that freaks Peter out. He also recognizes that expression. She’s trying to suppress whatever she felt. For once in Peter’s life, he wishes he had the chance to read minds, as invasive as that is but he’s curious — _more than curious_ — about what happened on the Raft. What does being a prisoner at the Raft mean? What are the guards like? Whenever Michelle gets started on the Raft Prison, she’s always comparing it to Guantanamo Bay. A place for war prisoners. A place for the worst kinds of criminals. _What they do to Wanda?_ When Tony and Steve are finished cleaning up, the Avengers head to the Raft. Steve and Vision stay close to Wanda, and Tony is keeping on her eye. Is it because they’re afraid she might freak out again like before and make the Quinjet crash?

Peter sits by himself for the flight. It’s not a long flight. Only a couple hours, but under Tony’s command, Peter tries to get some sleep. It takes some time, especially since Peter has to sit in a little nook that isn’t nearly as comfortable as a legit airplane seat (not that those chairs are that comfortable anyway) but after about an hour, Peter is passed out. The nightmares are back. It’s Alistair and Spencer Smythe and the Spider-Slayers. They’re wreaking havoc across Queens and Manhattan, breaking down walls of buildings, tormenting people, burning everything to the ground. Peter tries to stop them only he’s glued to the ground. Useless. Helpless. And people are dying because he failed them.

That jolts him awake. He blinks a few times to gather himself. Nearly everyone is the same position they were when Peter first asleep: tense, uneasy and looking around at each other, as though communicating telekinetically. Peter gets up. He stretches out, letting the blanket fall beside him, before he goes to stand next to Tony, who’s flying the quinjet.

“Hey, Mr. Stark? How far out are we?” Peter asks. Tony normally doesn’t let anyone go near him while he’s flying but right now, Tony doesn’t seem to mind. Peter quickly occupies the co-pilot seat.

Tony doesn’t turn to look at Peter but says anyway, “Not too far. Twenty minutes.” There’s a long moment of silent and Peter contemplates getting up to leave, but the sound of Tony's voice stops Peter. “How’s Wanda doing? I’ve been a little preoccupied recently,” he says, gesturing toward the gears of the quinjet.

Peter glances behind Tony’s seat. Wanda still looks a little dazed but she’s also nodding off a bit, exhausted. “She looks,” — Peter searches for the right word — “ _better_ , I suppose.”

“Good,” Tony says.

Tony goes back to staring out the window as he flies, eyes filled with concentration. In this moment, when all the other Avengers are distracted and when they’re literally _flying_ to the Raft, Peter finds the courage to ask, “Tony, what happened at the Raft?” It’s a daring question, Peter knows that, but now would be the best time to bring this subject up. After the civil war, Peter knew the government was planning on arresting Wanda, Sam, Clint and that Scott Lang guy, but no matter how much research Peter did (or really how much nagging Peter did), he could never find out what happened to them post-arrest. “Why did Wanda freak out like that? Why does Sam recoil every time Ross comes around?”

Tony hesitates. “Auto-pilot.”

“On it, boss,” FRIDAY says.

Tony swivels around in the pilot’s chair just enough to face Peter. “Look, when I signed the Accords and when I agreed to bring Rogers in — and his accompanying party as well — I had no idea what would happen to them _after_ they were in custody, nor did I ever ask. I figured they would be put in jail or put on house arrest at the compound, but I also thought I would get a say in what happened to my former teammates. I was wrong.” That makes Peter raise his eyebrows. It’s not often that Tony admits he’s wrong, so this just adds more tension to the situation. “I don’t know a lot of the details about what they did to Wanda or Sam — or if they even did _anything_ to them. But sometimes people are afraid of what they don’t understand or of what they might consider to be more powerful than themselves.”

“You’re talking about… _you know.”_ Peter gestures in Wanda’s general direction.

Tony nods. “Her most of all. You take away Sam’s wings or Clint’s bow or Scott’s suit, and you just have three regular guys. Not too scary if you ask me. But with Wanda, there isn’t a lot we can do to stop her powers — we don’t even know the full extent of her powers yet, either. That _ambiguity_ scared the hell out of the Raft guards. They did what they could to keep her from using those powers.”

“But if she really wanted to, could she have been able to escape?” Peter asks.

“Maybe... I don’t really know. I really don’t,” Tony says, honestly. He takes over as pilot and looks out the window in front of him. It’s obvious that this conversation is over so Peter goes back to his little corner. Those twenty minutes pass, a painful, long twenty minutes, but it’s over nonetheless, and then Tony pulls out his cell phone. “Ross, let’s get this place up. We’re about to land.”

There’s a long pause and then it looks as though the sea is starting to part, only it’s not. Something is shifting underneath. Lights are flashing. It looks as though the sea is starting to shake and rumble. New waves begin to violently rock back and forth from both the quinjet hovering the body of water as well as the shaking. That’s when the building starts to emerge, this round building made of rock that rises above from the depths of the sea. The Raft looks like every other jail: bleak and gray exterior, like just a huge massive rock sitting in the middle of the sea. With the building successful up, the top starts to open to reveal the landing place for the quinjet. It’s jerky landing.

“Put your mask on,” Tony commands as the Avengers gather around the entrance. Peter does so involuntary. He feels his heart racing. He has no idea what to expect, but only assumes it’s something _terrifying_.

The doors to the quinjet opens and immediately, Peter feels a gust of cold air. As he steps outside, he lets out a terrible shiver because it’s not just cold, but _freezing._ He tries to keep himself composed; none of the other Avengers are reacting the way Peter is reacting. Wherever the Avengers are standing now clearly isn’t where they’re keeping the prisoners. Workers in heavy coats are running around messing with control panels, holding guns, barking orders. All the guards are at least fifty to hundred pounds heavier than Peter, if not more. The way the guards all look equally stressed and anxious and suspicious makes Peter paranoid. Even the guards look like they’re prisoners here, and any place that makes the employees feel like that is nothing short of _bad news_.

Peter doesn’t get the chance to linger because Tony and Steve are already running in front of the other Avengers. They’re moving toward a blacked out helicopter. A group of men in suits are waiting by the helicopter and as Tony and Steve make their way over, these men turn. Standing in the front of the pack is Thaddeus Ross. He looks just like his picture: withered skin, white hair that sweeps over his head and a very stern expression. None of the Avengers look particularly fond to see Thaddeus Ross. Even Vision, the only Avenger who doesn’t have the human quality of holding grudges, doesn’t look that pleased at the moment. Nonetheless, forced handshakes between Tony, Steve and Ross are exchanged.

“Guess it isn’t fitting for me to say ‘glad to see you’ right now,” Tony says.

“Normally whenever we have to meet in person, it’s because something bad is happening,” Ross mumbles. He points toward a small red doorway. “The surveillance videos are through there. I’m sure you should remember.”

His words ripple throughout the near silent prison. Peter spares a quick glance in Wanda’s direction. She looks paler, more on edge than usual and she’s gripping her hands tightly. For a second, Peter is pretty terrified Wanda is going to explode but he should give her more credit than that. She’s taking deep breaths and slowly her fists unclench themselves. As though she instantly knows Peter is staring at her, Wanda turns to stare — not stare — _glare_ at Peter. Her eyes are burning. But then the anger fades as she realizes it’s just Peter. _Just Peter_. Not whoever or whatever is making her react this way.

Ross opens the door to the surveillance room. It’s a cramped little room with small TV screens lining the walls, featuring a number of criminals, some that Peter has never even see before. These criminals hardly even look human. Some are hunched over, curling into themselves and then turning to stare at the camera — they _all_ know where the cameras are, it seems. Their eyes are the worst: haunted, angry, disgruntled. It’s honestly terrifying. And then there are the criminals who are standing up, pacing back and forth, or doing pushups. Finding ways to entertain themselves. Peter assumes those criminals haven’t been there as long; their spirits haven’t been as broken and damaged as the others, the ones who can’t bring themselves to stand up from the ground to move. The ones who has been there the longest. Some aren’t sitting out of choice, either. Straightjackets. Shock collars. _Like animals_.

“Who’d deserve that?” Peter asks. He points to this huge, burly guy with tattoos all across his face. He’s one of the ones chained up.

“Me…” Wanda whispers.

What? Peter gaps at Wanda for a long second, only her attention is elsewhere. Her eyes are on the TV screens but her stares are empty, like she isn’t here anymore. He turns back to the screen, turns back to Tony and Steve are watching the surveillance screams with the same sort of shock. Not that this should be a surprise or anything of the sorts.

“Spencer Smythe was in Wing D,” Ross says. He speaks casually, as though he has no idea why the other Avengers are looking stiffly at the video cameras and hardly paying attention to what Ross is saying. “The breakout happened about three hours ago. We aren’t sure how Alistair Smythe managed to find the prison or how he managed to swim down the sea to get to the prison, either. Either way, he made his way from the rooftop, worked his way through our security systems, scared one of the guards or the prisoners — we’re not sure — into telling him where his father is being kept and then broke his father out.”

“Where was the point of entrance?” Steve asks.

Ross passes out a few photo to the Avengers. When Peter gets hold of one of the photos, he lets out a weak gasp. He half-expected a Spider-Slayer working with Alistair to break through the Raft security. It wasn’t a Spider-Slayer. Peter doesn’t know _what_ it is. The figure _crawling_ across the top of the Raft looks like Alistair, same face, same hair color, same snarl Peter saw back at Smythe Industries. Only, it’s not Alistair Smythe’s body. His body is much bigger, more defined muscles that are bulging as this Alistair crawls across the top of the Raft. Sticking out of the sides of his legs, his knuckles and the tops of his shoulder are long, dagger-like appendages. Like a breed between human and scorpion. That’s not the only thing that doesn’t look right: there aren’t scars from the acidic solution. His face and shoulders and body look perfectly clear. It’s not right.

“What the hell is that?” Bucky asks.

“Alistair Smythe, we think,” Ross says. “We aren’t sure what happened to him, or what that suit is built out of. What we do know, however, is that it was strong enough to penetrate the side of the building and to block bullets and other weapons we used to protect this place. When Smythe made it inside, he overrode the computer systems to unlock Spencer’s cell.”

“So this acidic chemical enhanced his abilities?” Steve postulates. He turns to look to Wanda.

“This isn’t anything like what happened to Pietro and me,” she whispers.

Peter thinks for a long second back to his former science class. “It’s an exoskeleton,” Peter says. That snaps the adults out of their conversation and they turn to look at the youngest Avenger. “It looks like a scorpion and scorpions have an outer shell that molts. Maybe Alistair Smythe built — or at the very least, had something _like it._ So maybe Alistair Smythe’s real body is inside the shell.”

There’s a long pause and then, “That makes senses,” Tony says.

Ross looks more skeptical. “We’ll look into it. For starters, let’s take a look at the cell. We want you guys to take some statements from the other criminals there. They might be more willing to talk if it’s the Avengers questioning them.”

There’s a little humor in Ross’s voice, and that makes Peter nervous. Ross doesn’t wait for a response from the Avengers. He’s already walking out of the surveillance room, up a couple flights of stairs (as they walk through the Raft, guards and prisoners alike turn to stare at the Avengers making their way to the cells) and then round a corner. They stop at a doorway labeled _Wing D_. With a swift move, Ross types a couple numbers into the keypad, swipes a card and then pushes the door wide open. The inside of Wing D is more terrifying than what Peter saw over the surveillance videos. It isn’t like a long hallway where you walk down and pass by cell after cell after cell. It’s a dead end, a little cul de sac of cells, which were just boxes with a small bed and a glass window through you could see the prisoners and the prisoners could see you. The Avengers walk through the threshold, and Peter feels the spidey-senses instantly going off. Hair standing up. The tingling starting. 

Peter first sees the cell in the direct center. The walls on the inside are cut open, split about like the door. There’s even deep scratches that run across the ceiling. It isn’t hard to conclude that that was where Spencer Smythe was once imprisoned. But his attention isn’t on Smythe’s cell for long. Peter is focusing in on the other two prisoners. The first, the one closest to the door, is a short, but stocky and very thick looking guy with absolutely no hair on his head beside his eyebrows. In the opposite cell stands a woman, pale in skin color, long brown hair that flows down her back. She has little stubs on each of her fingers, still looking sharp but by no means longer than the blade of a butterknife. Both prisoners are dressed in blue jumpsuits. They’re leaning against the side of the wall, watching the incoming Avengers.

“Fresh meat,” the woman hisses. She takes a step forward. Peter now realizes the woman is addressing him, and he takes a nervous step backwards. This woman has narrowed eyes and small frame, though the jumpsuit helps to conceal it slightly. “So this must be the famous _Spider-Man?_ Heard you’re causing some problems.” She gestures toward the empty cell.

Peter opens his mouth to say something but Natasha beats him to it. Nat pushes Peter out of the way and faces the woman head on. “You keep talking and I break off those talons. _Again_ ,” Nat says. It’s hardly a threat. More of a casual statement, but it’s enough to make the woman take a couple steps back. Nat turns back to Peter. “Lady Deathstrike. She’s a friend of ours, and the other is Kingpin. He was the guy we arrested back when you found out that we were going on missions without you.”

The guy, Kingpin, turns to glare at Peter. “New recruit, huh? Why weren’t you with the Avengers? You too small to be an Avenger?”

“No!” Peter says, defensively.

Tony pushes Peter aside. “You two don’t talk to us unless we're asking you a question,” Tony snaps. That silences the two prisoners. Tony turns to look to Peter. “You wanna take a look at the cell? See what we’re up against?”

“S — sure,” Peter says. He turns to stare at Kingpin for just a second longer — both prisoners have now retreated into the corner of their cells — before following Tony into the cell dead center of the room. Peter gets a better look at the inside of the cell. The gouges from Alistair's  _talons_ are pretty deep. In one corner, Peter can also see a few tally marks. “What are those?”

Tony looks over at what Peter is pointing to. He shrugs. “Not sure. Could be Spencer Smith counting the days he was in jail. Not very long,” Tony says. “Whatever Alistair Smythe is wearing, though, caused some serious damage.” Peter shudders, and Tony, being perceptive as always, notices. “Don’t worry, kid. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”

That’s comforting at the very least. Peter gives Tony a small smile before getting out of the cell. While Peter and Tony were investigating the cell, the other Avengers were more preoccupied talking to the prisoners. Not really talking. Intimidating. Negotiating. Except for Bucky and Sam, who are just staring at the slashes in the ceiling and walls in awe, the other four are getting real face-to-face with the two prisoners. Steve seems to be the leader, the one asking the questions; Vision is the diplomat so he’s there to help smooth the conversation out and it looks like Wanda and Nat are just there for intimidation purposes. Peter takes a small step forward, but there’s this really serious look on Tony’s face.

“Did the man who broke Spencer out say anything?” Steve asks. He speaks calmly, respectfully, and Peter admires that from Steve.

“Why should we help you with anything?” Kingpin says.

It’s sort of a cliche bad-guy-in-prison response. Steve thinks so too, because he lets out a soft chuckle. “Look. It’s pretty simple,” Steve says. “We can give you offers that you’ll probably want. Food more than just twice a day. And real food, too. Maybe some weights. Something you could scratch up,” he adds, turning to look at Lady Deathstrike. She looks half-interested, turning to face Steve a little bit more. “And it’s not like your ass is on the line right now. Why are you protecting—”

“ _Save it,”_ Lady Deathstrike hisses. “Mr. Captain America, always the level-headed guy. Where was this person during the civil war? Oh right. Up your friend’s—”

“ _That’s enough,”_ Steve snaps back. That's more like the Captain America Peter first met: big, strong and intimidating, not the mushy-gushy kind of things that society has associated with him.

“The only thing of importance Alistair or Spencer Smythe said was something along the lines of ‘it’s time to find that Spider-boy,’” Wanda says, suddenly. Peter and the other Avengers turn to look at her. Her eyes are glowing red, face stone cold.

Kingpin lets out this dark, sarcastic chortle. “Oh, that’s right. What’s the point of trying to do this diplomatic little negotiation, Captain America?” He stares at Wanda the entire that he’s speaking, and his eye contact is nothing short of severe and cruel. “Why don’t you just have your little pet pick apart our brains? Show us our worst nightmares and get us to speak? Aren’t you guys all pretty familiar with what she does to your mind?”

As Wanda drops her gaze, ashamed, Nat and Steve tense, straightening up to get a good glare at Kingpin. Peter read the files about what happened during the Age of Ultron. How she and Pietro thought of the Avengers as part of the US dream to westernize the other parts of the world, or something like that. While the Avengers tried to stop Ultron from obtaining Wakandan vibranium, Wanda put nightmares in every Avengers’ minds; apparently, the DODC and Tony are still working out fixing up the small city Banner destroyed. From what Peter’s heard from Tony, Wanda apologized, tried to make up for her actions, but it’s hard to recover from that. More importantly, it’s hard to forget whatever nightmares Wanda forced to the surface.

“I don’t do that anymore,” Wanda whispers.

“Why?” Deathstrike adds. “You’re good at it. I know if I had that power, your Avenger buddies would still be in the hospital _recovering_.” It’s obvious Wanda isn’t just ignoring what Deathstrike is saying. Wanda’s fists are clenched together, eyes narrowing.  

It isn’t just Peter who notices how Wanda is reacting. Tony clasps his hand together. “Alright. Looks like Deathstrike isn’t offering us anything special,” Tony concludes. “Is there a way to darken these cells? Make sure she doesn’t bother us?” He turns to look to some of the guards waiting by the door.

Deathstrike doesn’t stop, though, and she isn't the only one who is aware of how Wanda is reacting. Kingpin chuckles. “Yeah. Still recovering like the people _in Lagos.”_

His words hung in the air for a long moment. And then hell broke loose. In the following second, wisps of red came flying out of Wanda’s hands. The room glows as the Avengers are knocked over: Nat goes tumbling into Peter, who trips over his feet and uses his web to keep him and Nat from falling. Steve, Bucky and Sam get tripped up and hit the wall behind them. Vision takes hold of Tony, and they stay upright. Only, it’s not just the Avengers Wanda’s powers affect. The walls shake, the lights flicker and the glass to the two cells shatter. Glass goes everywhere. The Avengers take cover fast and, just as Peter recovers, he sees Deathstrike and Kingpin leaping out of their respective cells.

The two prisoners don’t last long, not against the entire team of Avengers. On one side of the room, Kingpin goes barreling forward. He’s the bigger of the two criminals so Bucky is taken aback when Kingpin crashes into his shoulder. Bucky tumbles to the side. Peter reacts without thinking, attaching a web low to the ground. Kingpin trips over the web and goes tumbling forward. Two seconds after, Bucky lands a deafening blow to Kingpin’s back and the criminal falls to the ground. On the other side, Lady Deathstrike slashes violently at Steve and Nat with her talons. The vibranium shield is significantly more powerful than Lady Deathstrike’s talons because her nails clip off piece by piece. Nat twists her legs around Deathstrike’s shoulder, yanking the criminal onto the ground. Deathstrike’s body shakes a couple of seconds as Nat lodges a stinger into the criminal’s body.

There’s a long second before the Raft guards come hauling into the prison room, Ross on their tail. He looks around for a long second, eyes wide, utterly awestruck. Then, he turns to glare at Tony. “What _the hell_ happened?” Ross doesn't give Tony the chance to respond because he looks over at Wanda. She’s cowering in the corner, hand over her mouth, eyes filled with tears. “What did you do?”

“I — I — I didn’t mean to…” she trails off. Words fail her. She backs up slowly, watching as the guards round up Kingpin and Deathstrike. The two prisoners are barely conscious, staggering out of the D-wing, trying desperately to get free.

“You did this!” Ross screams. Peter takes a couple of steps backwards; Wanda is nearly cowering under Ross’s glare. “You belong in a goddamn cell with the rest of these monsters!”

Peter glances at Wanda. For a second, Peter is worried that Wanda is about to explode again but, to her credit, she stays in control. Well, at the very least, her powers don’t go on the fritz, but she’s staring at the ground, doubled over. That’s not what makes Peter the angriest. It’s how the other Avengers react, or really their _inaction_. They flinch, look away, don’t say anything in defense of their other teammate.

Ross takes a deep breath. “We’ll need a couple of you to stick around while we find a new place for Kingpin and Deathstrike. For extra security purposes. And preferably not someone who created the problem in the first place,” Ross says. He glares at Wanda one last time before turning to walk away.

Silence follows. The Avengers gather themselves quietly, straightening out their uniforms, Steve picking up his shield. Peter feels thoroughly out of place, an outsider watching the Avengers post-bad mission. Wanda is still in the corner, eyes trailing the shattered glass on the floor. There’s a long pause in which Tony, Steve and Nat are sharing meaningful stares. Natasha clears his throat. “Vision, Bucky and I will stay here with Ross. The rest of you guys are probably good to head home right now,” she says. She speaks quietly and it’s clear she’s working diligently to make sure that her eyes don’t meet Wanda’s.

There’s a few mutters of agreement before the Avengers start shuffling around. First goes Nat, Vision and Bucky. Vision touches Wanda’s shoulder only for a second before leaving the room, quietly. Then Tony. Sam. Peter follows shortly, and only glances back to see that Wanda is still standing there, frozen in shock or embarrassment or whatever. For a split second, Peter contemplates going back to check on Wanda, only Steve beats him to it. He whispers something into her hair. She nods, more of a jerk of her head, before she follows Steve and the others out of the Raft. As they walk back to the quinjet, guards are turning to stare. Peter feels squeamish under their stares, even though he’s pretty sure they aren’t turning to look at him.

It’s about 2:00 in the morning right now (Peter is slightly surprised because he figured they spent a lot longer on the Raft than he realized). The flight back, Peter makes sure to get some sleep. He’s exhausted, too, so getting to bed comes easily. He wakes only when Tony is telling Peter that they’re at the compound. Before going to sleep, Peter calls May to let her know that he made it back. It’s too late at night for May to thoroughly grill Peter about the mission to make sure he didn’t get into too much trouble so she just thanks Peter for calling and it’s back to bed.

Peter sleeps until noon the following day. He rolls around in bed, contemplating whether he should call Gwen. Maybe he should. Apologize now and then do it again in person. He gets Gwen’s voicemail. He assumes she’s fielding his calls (Peter would too if Gwen did what Peter did on their date). He leaves a long voicemail, apologizing profusely but also making sure that it doesn’t sound like he wants her to take him back or anything. That’s not fair for him to ask of Gwen, and Peter feels worse for just starting to realize that dating _shouldn’t_ be his priority right now, especially when Alistair and Spencer Smythe are on the loose.

Tony, Sam and Steve are up, sitting in the kitchen and going over some paperwork they have to fill out. Peter offers to help but it’s not needed, at least according to them. Peter finds little ways to occupy himself the entire day, with the plan that he’ll head back to May’s Sunday morning. Takes a long shower (all the bathrooms are equipped with steam showers so Peter feels like a king). Gets some homework done. Cleans up his bedroom at the compound. Watches some TV. He thinks about hanging out with Wanda, both because she surely isn’t helping the other adults with paperwork and she could probably use some company but she hasn’t left her bedroom all day. Peter’s worried, to the say the least. Yes. Her powers were the problem. This time, though, it wasn’t her fault. Those people prodded her into reacting like that. She shouldn’t be blamed. And it wasn’t like anyone was hurt.

Saturday night, still feeling pretty lonely, Peter goes to sit outside on the balcony just to gather his thoughts. He’s been thinking a lot about the civil war. He stands with Tony, always will. Team Cap was outside the law. There were better ways to handle the situation than harboring a fugitive like the Winter Soldier. But at the same time, Peter now knows Bucky was an innocent man. Hydra brainwashed him. Not to mention, it wasn’t like Wanda meant to blow up the Lagos hospital. She was trying to keep a bomb from decimating an entire village, including Captain America. Both sides of the civil war didn’t handle themselves correctly. And Peter fed into that violence. Helped _imprison_ the _Avengers_.

“You want some company?” a booming voice says. Peter turns just as he sees Steve coming to lean against the railing. Steve glances at the sky. “I’ve always loved the city feeling that I got back in Brooklyn, but I do have to admit that it is beautiful here,” Steve says, laughing slightly. Peter feels obligated to respond, knowing full well that it’s pretty rude not to, but he keeps silent. He doesn’t know what to say, so Steve continues the conversation them. “Are you doing okay, Peter? I know things have been pretty hectic lately so no one has had the chance to ask you that.”

“I’m doing alright all things considered,” Peter says. That isn’t a lie. Far from it, actually. He knows that he could have been reacting a lot worse, panicking in fact. And Peter is pretty amazed and impressed with himself that he isn’t. “How’s Wanda? Haven’t seen her all day.”

Steve shrugs. “She wanted to be alone. She’s pretty upset with herself.”

“It’s not her fault,” Peter says. It’s meaningless words. Even if she can’t control her powers sometimes, it doesn’t excuse what she did. It never does. But still… After seeing what he saw at the Raft… Peter bites down at his lip to keep himself from getting even angrier than he already is. “Why didn’t you guys defend her when Ross was screaming at her?”

Steve frowns. “It’s not that simple, Peter. She’s on shaky grounds already for what happened in Johannesburg and Lagos. If we piss Ross off, he can probably find ways to turn nations against us… It’s politics. It’s an ugly game, but it’s one we have to play.” 

Peter is only half-satisfied with that answer. “But Tony knew what was happening to Wanda during the civil war, didn't he? How could Tony let them treat her like that? I get it. She’s killed a lot of people, but those guards treated her like an animal — all of them like an animal! And I helped put you guys there…” Peter hasn’t really thought about that yet. He never really understood that he helped put Team Cap into the prison. “I’m sorry. If I had known what was going to happen—”

Steve holds his hands up. “There’s a lot of things that we need to apologize for after what happened during civil war. A lot of _ugly_ , brutal things that we’ve been pretending never happened. I know you hate it when people treat you like a kid but there are a lot of things that you don’t understand about why we were fighting last year, and why things ended the way they did when we were in Siberia. And these secrets aren’t mine to tell, but it doesn’t matter. We can’t change the past. We’d like to, but we can’t. We have to move forward, learn how to accept it. You did what you thought was right. We were breaking the law and to the eyes of the world at the time, we were helping a _criminal_ escape. I understand why you fought with Tony. You don’t need to apologize.”

This doesn’t exactly make Peter feel better but at the very least, there’s some comfort knowing Steve doesn’t have a grudge against Peter.

“Why don’t you come inside?” Steve says. “It’s freezing out here. Come on. Pepper’s just made us some hot chocolate and we’re gonna find a movie to watch.”

Peter thinks about wanting to get some more alone time, believes that giving himself the time to think now is what he needs. Then again, he shouldn’t be by himself. More like he _doesn’t need_ to be by himself right now. So, he smiles and follows Steve into the living room. Sam and Wanda are already there. They’re curled up on couches with blankets and cups of hot chocolate. Two huge bowls of popcorn and another one of chips are sitting on the table. With Steve taking the barcalounger, Peter goes to take the open seat next to Wanda. She offers to share her blanket with him and then hands Peter a cup of untouched hot chocolate.

“Hope you like peppermint in your hot chocolate,” Wanda says, “and it’s Tony’s choose to pick the movie so expect some really gory horror movie.”

Peter laughs. He takes a long sip of hot chocolate. The warm beverage soothes Peter, makes him a little more at ease. He turns to look at Wanda, who is almost boredly swirling her hot chocolate around with her magic. It’s kind of interesting the way she’s so casually using her powers.

“You’re using your powers,” Peter says, though he instantly feels stupid for saying that. Why bring attention to that?

Wanda stops swirling the hot chocolate, but the red is still light in her eyes. It’s not just a look of disappointment with herself. It’s a look of a hatred. “Bottling these powers up doesn’t always work out,” she admits. “Believe me. I’ve tried. What you saw back at the Raft is nothing. The more I use them, the more comfortable I am with it. The more I can _control it_.” She looks exhausted, too, like she’s had more than just a few days in a row of sleepless nights.

“Are you doing alright?” He asks.

She shrugs. “I’ve been better,” she finally says. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Peter shrugs. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Well, who’s ready for a movie night?!” Tony says.

He emerges from the hallway and Peter is kind of glad that he interrupted Wanda and Peter’s conversation. Tony nearly pushes Steve partway out of the barcalounger to sit on the armrest. Tony is already going through the movie selections on the TV (and there’s a lot, probably more movies than Peter ever knew existed). Now that Peter can devote his attention to the movie, he tries hard not to think about what happened at the Raft. About the prisoners. The conditions. How _terrible_ everyone must feel whenever they’re there. He wants the Raft Prison to be gone, destroyed, outlawed. It’s not like it’s an actual effective prison. Two breakouts in the last couple of years. One by a super soldier and the other by some — _whatever_ the hell Alistair Smythe is. So much for not thinking about it.

But what if —

Peter’s train of thought is interrupted. His pants suddenly start vibrating. He jerks and scrambles to grab hold of his cell phone. It’s a picture of Aunt May, and it looks like he’s already missed three of her calls and two of her texts. Sighing, Peter stands up from the couch, tossing the blanket onto Wanda. She looks up at him. “Everything alright?”

Peter shrugs. “It’s May. She’s called me a bunch of times so I really can’t miss this,” he says. He’s already leaving the living room and heading into the empty hallway before any of the other Avengers can ask him anything. “I’ll back in a little bit.” Peter answers the phone call with an exasperated sigh. “Hey May. Sorry I missed your calls. Is everything—”

“Peter…” May whispers. Her voice is hoarse, shaky and it’s enough to make Peter stop talking.

“What’s going on?” Peter asks. “Look May, I know this is scary but I’m okay. Really, I’m—”

“I’m sorry,” May interrupts again. Now Peter’s heart is starting to race a little bit. “Peter, I’m sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn’t know what to do. They _made_ me call you. I — I didn’t want to — god, they—…” May’s voice trails off. No, not _trailed_ off — _cut off_. Forcefully. Peter is shaking pretty badly, not because he’s starting to feel panicked but because he’s spider-senses are going off like crazy, more powerful than ever. The back of his head is nearly electrocuting him; the hairs on his arms, legs and probably head are standing up; his muscles are starting to tense up, activate just like the blood that starts to pump through his veins. Peter’s mind is capable of registering that there are no enemies, but it’s as though his body is getting ready for him to start flying.

“She’s pretty young to be an aunt, isn’t she? Huh, Spider-Man?” Peter recognizes the voice, too. Alistair Smythe. Peter’s head starts to spinning. No. No. _No!_ “She told me your parents died.” There’s some laughter, but Peter can barely process that. _How did this happen? How did they know?_  “Well, not ‘told.’ More of _forced_ it out of her.” Smith pauses to chuckle and then, “You wanna hear your aunt scream Peter?”

That snaps Peter back out of his haze. He thinks of trying to lie. “No — no, please don’t. How did you—?”

“An explanation can be saved for later,” Alistair interrupts. “Unless you want to lose the only living family member who still gives a shit about your pathetic existence, you come to the top of the Empire State Building at midnight. And don’t try calling your guy-in-the-chair or asking any of the other Avengers for help. We'll know. We always do. Seriously. One wrong move, and your pretty little aunt is _dead_.”

The line goes dead. For a second, Peter isn’t thinking. He’s not comprehending. And then, his muscles start working in overtime. He checks his clock. He has two and half hours until midnight, only two and half hours to find a good plan to save Aunt May. Peter glances back at the living room. Forget wanting to be strong. Forget wanting to prove himself to Tony or the other Avengers. _He needs the Avengers_. He needs Tony and Wanda and Steve and Sam. He needs all of them. But he can’t ask them for help. This time, it has nothing to do with pride. He can’t risk May.

Peter needs May more than he needs being a part of the Avengers.

It takes all of Peter’s willpower to keep himself from sprinting out of the compound. He thinks about just using his webs to get to the Empire State Building. He would sneak out with the suit. No one would notice… but that would take too long and take too more energy. Tony or Sam could catch up to Peter easily. And then Peter gets an idea. First, he changes fast, pulling the Iron-Spider suit on before hastily making his way to the garage. Peter knows where Tony keeps the car keys — Tony has taken Peter on plenty of road trips. He knows—

“You going somewhere?” Tony asks.

Peter jumps. He looks at Tony for a long second before his mind starts to clear up. “A walk. Just need some fresh air.” Peter hates lying, especially to Tony, but he tries to be convincing.

For a split second, Peter is terrified that Tony is going to catch Peter in his lie. “You want me to go with you?”

“No,” Peter says, almost too quickly. “No,” he says again, this time calmer. “I’m okay. I just — clear my thoughts. Enjoy the movie. I’ll be back in just a couple minutes.”

It’s obvious Tony isn’t convinced so it’s a miracle when Tony says, “Uh, okay. Don’t go too far, and stay on the path! I don't want to see teenage boy footprints on my lawn tomorrow morning!”

“Of course,” Peter says. He goes out the door and waits. An advantage of his spidey-senses is that he can _hear_ when Tony has actually walked away. Peter quietly sneaks back in. He takes a set of keys off of the hook and hurries into the garage. The garage is huge, a line of Audi cars in front of him. Peter clicks the unlock button on the key to find whichever one this key is for. It’s one of the newer ones, and Peter prays the car has gas. “Licenses,” Peter whispers. He double checks that he has his wallet (getting pulled over in a stolen vehicle without a licenses really wouldn’t be good). Then, he peels away. Peter is relying purely on instincts and memory as he careens out of the compound and down the road. He keeps the music off. He doesn’t need that distraction.

May must be terrified. How could Peter let this happen to her? _Why did Peter let this happen?_ If she dies… If they hurt her… Peter nearly misses the turn. The car groans as he violently takes a sharp right, veering into the other lane on accident. But there’s no one there for Peter to hit. _Thank god_. Peter has to make sure that he gets away from the compound _fast_ before Tony can realize what’s happening. He has to get away from Tony. He has to get May.

He can’t let her die.

The speedometer reaches seventy as Peter races down the road.


	11. The Ultimate Spider-Slayer v. the Amazing Spider-Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm really sorry for how long it took to post this chapter. I've been really busy lately and I haven't the chance to sit down and write.
> 
> Anyway, there's only one chapter left. Thank you so much for everyone who's commented, left kudos or bookmarked the story. It means a lot to me!

Chapter 11: The Ultimate Spider-Slayer v. the Amazing Spider-Man

It doesn’t take Peter nearly as long as he expects to get downtown. His instincts are guiding him around traffic, alerts him when other cars are approaching or whenever cops are getting on his tail so that he can stop being such a reckless driver. He isn't sure why he hasn't gotten pulled over yet. Perhaps it’s because this is New York and cops don’t have time to go chasing after some guy who’s driving a little over the speed. Maybe it's just Peter's lucky night. Peter doesn’t care, though. He’s on the freeway now, barreling down the road, weaving in and out of traffic. He glances at the clock, only to realize that there’s still plenty of time before midnight. Peter debates going to the Empire State Building early, but it’s violating what Smythe says. What if he does something to May? What if he…

Peter stops himself from finishing that sentence. Maybe he'll check his place, see if May is there and the Smythes were just bluffing. That’s probably nothing but false hope and Peter is sure that this time could be better spent, but he can’t think of anything else to do. He veers onto the exit at the last possible second, a couple of people honking with irritation, but Peter doesn’t lift his foot off the accelerator. From here, Peter knows the path back to his apartment by heart so his mind drifts as he races down the familiar roads. _Call Tony. Call Tony. Call Tony,_ is all Peter can think. But he can’t risk it.

Peter’s apartment is in view now. Luckily, there’s a parking spot out front so Peter makes a jerky, crooked parking job. He leaps out of Tony’s audi and then tears the door open. The landlord, Mr. Karsen, turns to glare at Peter for so abruptly and aggressively bursting inside. He shouts after the teenager, but Peter doesn’t stop — _can’t stop_. He’s up the stairs in a few seconds, taking three at time. Peter is praying silently. _Let May be there. Let them be bluffing. Please, god. Please, please, please._ Peter scrambles to get to the door of his apartment. He yanks the key out of his pocket, shoves it into the keyhole and fumbles to unlock his door. “Come on, please, please, please,” Peter whispers. His brain isn’t functioning correctly. _Why won’t this door open?!_

“Peter?”

“ _Holy shit!”_ Peter yelps, nearly breaking the key apart. He spins around to see MJ casually leaning against the side of the wall. Her hair is pulled back into a loose bun and she has her backpack slung on her right shoulder. “MJ?! What the hell are you doing here?”

“Decathlon practice…” she says. She turns to look at Peter fumbling with the key. “You need help?”

“What?” Peter glances at the key. MJ’s presence brings Peter back to his rational senses. He takes a deep breath, but still doesn’t open the door. “What do you mean we have decathlon practice? It’s Saturday night.”

MJ rolls her eyes. “Don’t you remember the email I sent out? How everyone needs to have a one-on-one practice with me so we can decide who’s going to be on the competing team for nationals? You didn’t respond to the email so you got stuck with a Saturday night slot. And I’ve been waiting out here for ten minutes, so thanks a lot.”

Peter stares at MJ. This can’t be happening. Not tonight. Not when Aunt May needs him…

“Are you going to invite me inside?” she asks.

“Uhhh” is all Peter can say. He feels so blindly dumb. He can’t think of an excuse right now, a good lie that someone as perceptive and intelligent as MJ would believe. He forgot wouldn’t constitute him leaving right now. “I think May is in trouble. I really can’t worry about decathlon practice right now,” Peter sputters out. He feels insanely embarrassed right as he says that. She’s going to think Peter is crazy… Or worse, she’ll find out that Peter is Spider-Man.

This is MJ, though, and all she does is stare at Peter for a couple of seconds. “Okay. Okay, what should I do?”

“Really?” Peter says, quietly. He looks back at his apartment and starts fumbling over his words as he tries to get his door open. “Wow, uh… Look, I don’t know what’s going on right now. I just got this call and,” —Peter finally gets the door open—, “I don’t know what’s going on!”

Peter pushes the apartment door open and bursts forward, MJ just barely following Peter. There doesn’t look to be a sign of a struggle. Nothing is broken. Parts of the living room and kitchen aren’t strewn about on the floor like Peter half-expected. This, at the very least, means that May didn’t fight against Alistair Smythe, which means that she shouldn’t be hurt. _Shouldn’t be_. There aren’t any visible gouges like at the Raft so perhaps that terrifying, scorpion-like suit wasn’t needed. The state of the apartment doesn’t completely confirm whether or not May was actually taken, but at least it gives Peter some peace of mind.

“Peter?” MJ asks. She’s staring at the apartment with raised eyebrows. “What’s going on?”

“It’s — it’s kind of a hard to explain…” Peter says. He can’t think about coming with lies and excuses right now. “It’s just…” he falters.

“Does this have something to do with why you’re always bailing out on everyone?” MJ asks.

Peter looks over at MJ. “Sort of,” he admits. “Look. It’s complicated.” Very complicated. So complicated that Peter really doesn’t want to continue this conversation right now. He takes a step into the living room, eyes scanning the floors until… “Crap.” Peter picks up May’s cell phone, which is wedged in between the couch cushions. If Smythe was just bluffing about having May, she would still have her cell phone with her. Anger and fear and terror surges through Peter’s vein.

“Do you have any idea where she could be?” MJ asks.

Her voice snaps Peter out of his rage. “Uh yeah,” Peter says. “I have an idea.”

“So why don’t we start there?”

“We?” Peter repeats. He pockets May’s phone and turns to look at MJ, shaking his head. “No, no, no. This can’t be a ‘we’ sort of a thing. The people I think have her are, uh, they’re pretty dangerous and I don’t want to risk you getting hurt.” Not to mention, Peter has the Spider-Man suit under his clothes right now.

MJ laughs callously. “What? And you’re going to go by yourself?”

“N — no. Of course not,” Peter stammers. “I know a guy.”

“Are you going to call Iron Man? Aren’t you Tony Stark’s intern or something?” MJ says. She turns only to look at Peter for a fraction of second before her eye contact diverts to something around his apartment.  “Didn’t Ned say you were friends with Spider-Man last year?”

Peter turns to look at MJ before he starts nod fervently. “Uh, yeah, yeah, he did say something about that.” He grabs hold of the keys he just threw across the apartment before scrambling toward the door of his apartment. When it registers that MJ is still standing in his living room utterly out of place, Peter turns to say, “Hey, uh, stay here. If May comes back, call me. I’ll be with Spider-Man. I’ll be — it’ll be… yeah. Okay.”

Peter closes the apartment door behind him, his head spinning. ( _How the hell does MJ show up at the most inopportune times?!)_ The hallway is relatively deserted, not to mention there’s a little public bathroom on this floor. It would be too risky to change out in the open, though, so Peter starts scurrying up the stairs to the roof. The landlord is supposed to keep the door locked but unbeknownst to the landlord, Peter broke the lock on the roof a while ago. He goes up here sometimes. Going to a place where no else can bother him is a good way to clear his mind, especially after a stressful day.  

It’s an angled rooftop so Peter’s balance is a little thrown at first. Quickly, he stabilizes himself — _he has to focus!_ — and starts peeling off his clothes in seconds. On goes the mask before anyone can see him. Fully dressed as his alter-ego, Peter goes to the edge of the roof where he sees Tony’s car just below. The jump to the ground isn’t that high, especially after scaling something like the Washington Memorial. Peter gets a little bit of a running start before flipping off the side of the roof and landing cleanly and silently onto the ground. He stares at Tony’s car for a long second, contemplating whether it would be faster to take Tony’s car or use his webs. Peter supposes the mission is time sensitive _and_ he needs to conserve his strength. Tony’s car it is. Peter throws himself into the driver’s seat, turns to the key to the ignition and —

 _Nothing_.

“What the hell?” Peter says. He jerks the key in the ignition a few times. The audi groans but doesn’t spring to life.

“Theft-Mode activated,” comes an automated voice — _FRIDAY_.

“No, no, no, no,” Peter mutters. When Tony first showed Peter the Avengers Compound, Tony let Peter drive around in one of his cars, strictly around the lot at the compound. Peter went just a little beyond the compound boundaries and the car stopped running and his hands were handcuffed to the wheel. _Theft Mode_. In a flash, Peter springs out of the car. He just barely escapes the gleaming handcuffs. “ _Damn it!”_

He looks up at the window of his apartment, the light still on, and Peter contemplates getting MJ. She could drive him to the Empire State Building, But no. That would put her in danger, and Peter can’t risk putting another person he cares about in danger. He looks down the street, calculating the distance between his apartment and the Empire State Building. It’s a decent drive, and Peter isn’t sure how he feels about this. Or if he _can_ do it. Right now, it’s 11:06. If Peter is going to swing to the Empire State Building, he has to be fast. No mistakes. No swinging and hitting a building. Peter has to be _perfect_ if he wants to save Aunt May.

Peter looks around. It’s not like there are branches or anything that Peter can swing from. Just rooftops. _But he has to try_. He gathers up speed, flings a web to the top of one building, gets a running jump and starts soaring. He’s flying, rapidly closer and closer to the building to which he attached himself. He catches the side of the building, fingers and toes pressed fervently against the glass. Peter’s attention turns to the high rise a few buildings down, and he’s soaring through the air again. Once attached to the second building, Peter swings himself toward another one a little further down. And another. And another. His moves are elegant, surprisingly so considering he’s never traveled this way for such an extended period of time. Even better, however, is that Peter never feels his muscles weaken.

When Peter was six or seven, he went to the Empire State Building with Aunt May and Uncle Ben, and he went again with his Decathlon team his freshman year for the sake of going. It’s not that Peter doesn’t find the Empire State Building impressive or beautiful, but Peter isn’t really into the tourist-y things. He only barely knows the way from Queens, but he’s amazed when he rounds a large bank to see the Empire State building standing before him, beautiful as ever and _populated_ , too.

“Damn,” Peter whispers to himself. The building he’s attached to now is on the other side of a busy round, directly in front of the Empire State Building. One flick of his wrist and now Peter’s webbing is secured around one of the ledges of the Empire State Building. Peter launches himself over the street and then lowers himself to the ground by the front doors. Though it’s late, there are still plenty of people bustling inside. When Peter makes his way through the front doors, it doesn’t take very long for kids and tourists to see Spider-Man. “Activate voice modifier, please,” Peter says.

“Right away, Peter,” Karen manages before the onslaught of civilians start shouting over each other.

“Mom, look!”

“Spider-Man! It’s Spider-Man!”

“What are you doing here?”

Peter goes through the metal detector and then stops short of the nearest security guard, who is slightly flabbergasted. “We need to evacuate the building. Alistair and Spencer Smythe are likely at the rooftop. Everyone needs to leave by midnight in an orderly fashion.” The security guard looks hesitant for only a second. “Now! This is important!” Peter urges.

That, at the very least, gets the security guard moving. He turns to the others and starts shouting orders. The next thing Peter knows, the fire alarm is going off and an automated voice over speakers are telling everyone to evacuate in a calm and orderly fashion. Peter looks over at the clock. 11:42. Not enough time to evacuate this many people in such a huge building. He figures he should help with evacuation, get the people off the rooftop at the very least. But how is he supposed to get up there without using the elevator? Peter thinks for a second before the idea comes to him. He rushes outside only to quickly realize the chaos and panic of Spider-Man ordering such a huge evacuation has started spread. Cars are honking as the drivers try to peel away from the Empire State Building. Pedestrians left and right are nearly sprinting away.

 _Focus Parker_ , Peter reminds himself. He turns to the building directly beside the Empire State Building. There’s a ledge sticking out. It’s perfect. Peter flings a web onto the ledge and kicks off the ground. When he lands, the ledge nearly groans under the sudden force but Peter steadies himself nonetheless. From where he’s standing, he’s at the perfect distance to accurately and securely attach a string of webbing to the top of the Empire State Building. Peter gets a good grip on the web before he launches himself up to the top. It’s absolutely exhilarating and admittedly a little terrifying as he flies to the top. At the top of the viewing deck are curved metal rods, which make it a little difficult for Peter to get there but he still manages, nonetheless. Peter takes in his surroundings. He recognizes the rough brick floors, the telescopes, and feels familiar, happy memories flood back to him. He shakes them off. 

The viewing deck is deserted. One less thing Peter needs to worry about.

“Well, well, well, Mr. Parker…”

Peter jerks around, and there he is. Alistair Smythe, or at least his face, on that scorpion’s body. He looks just like he did in the photo, only more terrifying, _bigger_ than Peter expected. And in person, it’s easier to tell that those sharp appendages jutting out of his body and the new skin that makes up Alistair Smythe’s form aren’t organic. It’s obviously an exoskeleton of some sort. Still, that doesn’t give Peter any comfort. In fact, it just makes Peter expect that trying to defeat Smythe will be that much harder.

“Where is May?” Peter yells. Peter’s surprised that he doesn’t sound absolutely terrified. In fact, Peter quickly registers _anger_ in his voice.

“Patience.”

“ _No!_ I’m here. Now I want to know that she’s safe,” Peter says. “ _Where is she?!”_

Alistair laughs. “She’s here. She has a nice view, too,” Alistair gestures a little higher, and Peter’s blood goes cold. Peter barely sees May strapped to the top of the building. His keen eyesight allows him to the identify that she isn’t physically harmed but her eyes are shut tight, tears dripping down her mascara-streaked cheeks, and she’s trembling. _She’s terrified_.

“I’m gonna—” Peter starts. He’s seething angry.

“Kill me?” Alistair interrupts. “I thought that wasn’t your style.” Peter doesn’t respond, especially because he knows Alistair Smythe is right. “Bet you wish you told my father and me your real identity sooner, huh?”

That grounds Peter a little, reminds him of what’s happening. He stares at Alistair Smythe and takes a step forward. In the exoskeleton, Smythe stands _much_ taller than Peter, but Peter doesn’t stand down. He looks at Smythe in the eyes evenly and snarls, “How did you find out about my identity?”

Smythe laughs callously.  “It’s not like it was hard. You aren’t very careful with your identity. Thinking foolishly that changing your voice and wearing a mask will be enough. You left a trail, Mr. Parker, that lead us right back to you. After the fight at Smythe Industries, my father and I knew we had to lay low. We knew the Avengers and DODC would be all over that place. The DODC did a good job cleaning up all the scrap metal from the fight. What they didn’t pay attention to was something small left carelessly on the rooftop,” Smythe says.

Peter’s eyes widen slightly. He hasn’t felt this _stupid_ in a long time, not since what happened at the ferry at Staten Island, not since May found out about what he really was. “My… my apartment key. You found my apartment key.”

“Yes. Or really one of my security guards found your apartment key. They have to report finding any random or miscellaneous objects in our databases and my father and I were still monitoring it… just in case. We didn’t expect that it would help us find the identity of Spider-Man,” Smythe says. He takes a looming step closer to Peter, and Peter involuntarily moves backwards. “Mr. Peter Parker. Have to admit I didn’t expect Spider-Man, the new _Avenger_ that everyone seems to love, to be a teenager. A bumbling child who’s lovestruck with Iron-Man.”

It takes a second for Peter to find the words to respond. He’s shocked, terrified and also completely distracted knowing that he needs to get May down _now_. “It’s just a key,” Peter says as he looks up at May. “How did you put it together that…” Peter figures out the answer to that question before Smythe says anything. “The crest on the back of the key.” _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ How did Peter let this happen?!

“Pretty distinct if you ask me. We recognized it almost immediately,” Alistair says. “All we had to do was wait. We did a little bit of investigating. Only one person registered to be missing a key to their apartment. May and Peter Parker.”

Peter’s heart is pounding. He wants to sit there, let himself relish in his own stupidity, let himself wallow in the fact that May could _die_ because of Peter. There’s only other thing Peter is curious about, dying to know. “What happened to you? You fell in chemical acid. You should be dead.”

“Should be. I’m still not sure what happened. I was out for a while… but then I felt a spark going from the bottom of my toes to the top of my head, a spark that rejuvenated me, gave me strength. I snuck out of the DODC morgue — took those idiots long enough to realize that I was gone — and I made it back to one of Smythe Industries' old warehouses. We store old prototypes there, ideas that were discarded and in the process of being broken down and the parts recycled. That’s where I found this.” Alistair holds up his hands and waves the talons jutting out from knuckles. “It was an old weapon we thought might be handy but no one was interested. It was… it’s out of the ordinary. People prefer bombs and guns but not this. No matter. I took it for myself, manipulated it and rebuilt part of it. Mr. Parker, you are staring at the Ultimate Spider-Slayer.”

Alistair Smythe lunges forward, flying toward the air with his arms and talons directed straight at Peter. The spidey-senses take over. He moves out of the way and Smythe goes clattering to the ground, the appendages scraping against the cement floor. Peter formulates a plan in a matter of milliseconds: web him up, keep him down and get May. Get May. Get May. Peter can fight Smythe later. That’s not important.

Peter hooks himself to the side of the building, kicks off the ground and soars. He flies around the perimeter of the Empire State Building before rounding on Smythe and kicking him right in the back. Smythe goes to the ground again. “Grenade web!” Peter commands as Smythe rounds on him again. The grenade web sputters out of Peter’s hands, stopping dead in front of Smythe before it explodes. Thick bands of web hit Smythe like a wrecking ball and he crumbles to the ground. Webbing against those sharp talons don’t do much though. Smythe is already starting to claw his way out so Peter doesn’t stop. Grenade web after grenade web after grenade web. The thick substance overwhelms Smythe. He’s down for a second. But that second is all Peter needs. Peter flies upwards to May. He gets a strong grip on the side of the building and stares at his terrified aunt. “May?!”

May opens her eyes slowly. “P — Peter,” she stammers. Her eyes meet Peter’s, and he feels his heart wrench. “Oh god,” she sobs. Ropes wrap around her arms and feet.

“I — I’m gonna get you out of here,” Peter says. He lowers himself just slightly, heart beating as he reaches around to find the well-secure knots. “It’s going to be—”

“PETER!” She screams.

He doesn’t need her warning because his spidey-senses identify what’s about to happen. Peter catches the talon with his bare hands right before he can penetrate his chest. Webs are wrapped around Alistair Smythe’s shoulders and legs, lightly sprinkled throughout his hair, and he’s breathless. And a lot angrier now. The talon is sharp all the way around so Peter’s hand sears with agony as it digs into his skin. So Peter loosens his grip and instead guides the talon to penetrate the wall just a couple inches away from May. She screams.

Peter’s back hits the side of the building. He uses the wall as a launching pad to give himself more power and kicks Smythe in the chest. Smythe loses his balance, sways a little. “I’ll — I’ll be back,” Peter says to May. With a web secured to the wall, Peter flips over Smythe before grabbing Smythe’s shoulders and pulling him back to the viewing deck. Peter lets go at the last second. He manages to stick the landing while the Ultimate Spider-Slayer hits the metal floor, which groans. The fencing around the ledge of the viewing deck shutter. Peter looks back up at May. He launches upwards again.

“Aghhhhhh!” Peter screams. Pain explodes in his calf. He loses his grip on the web he was using and he falls. He feels something in his shoulder crack, but that’s not the ultimate source of anguish. One of Smythe’s talons slashed Peter’s lower calf and now it’s gushing blood. There isn’t a chance for a reprieve, though, because Smythe is going after Peter again. Peter barely has the energy to move. When he puts even the slightest bit of weight on his ankle, his leg gives out.

Smythe kicks Peter in the chest. One his talons slash Peter’s stomach and he groans. Alistair stops for a second and stares down Peter’s crumbled body. “These talons make it too easy. Too easy to kill you. Too easy to get to the Raft to free my father from imprisonment. If you’re wondering where my father is, he’s off monitoring the Avenger’s Compound. We have four Spider-Slayers on their way to keep them busy. It’s funny. My father didn’t trust me at first. He didn’t recognize his own son. Your Avengers won’t recognize you and your mangled body when I’m finished with you.”

It’s supposed to be a threat, but Peter refuses to let Smythe get to him. “Can’t imagine why your dad didn’t recognize you with the talons and all,” Peter spits back. He pulls himself off the ground, just barely.

“You make jokes,” Smythe starts, “but you have no idea what you did to me.” Smythe reaches upward and wraps his fingers around his head. It takes Peter by surprise when Smythe pulls off what apparently is a mask. Peter feels his stomach twist as he gets a good look at Smythe’s face. His hair is burned off, just like his skin, marred with scars and welts. Smythe takes a step closer, more into the light, and Peter gets a better look at his pinky, rough flesh. It’s a relief when the mask goes back on. “And this is just a taste… You, Mr. Parker, _you_ did this to me. YOU DID THIS TO ME! And now you’re going to die for it.”

Peter’s defenseless. Too weak to fight and yet… there’s the sound of metal crunching and shattering. Peter doesn’t get the chance to look and see what’s going on because Peter is suddenly thrown to the ground. What feels like leather-clad arms are pressing against Peter’s back. Fingers are digging themselves into Peter’s hair and he feels his head being against something. _Someone_ is more like it. Peter dares to open his eyes and he finds something being engulfed in Wanda’s grip, red mist swirling around the two of them in what looks like a magic bubble. Smythe is glaring down at the two of them — his talons can’t penetrate this bubble.

And then Smythe is thrown backwards. Iron-Man. Smythe gathers himself quickly and turns to look at Iron-Man and the Scarlet Witch. “No, _no!”_ Smythe exclaims. He turns to look at Iron-Man, eyes seething with anger and hatred. “How… my father—”

“Sent four robots against the Avengers. Not a great plan,” Mr. Stark taunts.

Peter barely registers Mr. Stark talking. Wanda grabs hold of Peter’s chin and lifts his face upwards so that his eyes meet her’s, big and brown and full of worry. “Are you okay? Let me get you out of here.”

“ _No,”_ Peter hisses. “M — May… I need you to…” Peter falters. He gestures toward the top of Empire State Building. Wanda’s grip on Peter loosens only a little as she finally notices May screaming and sobbing as she stares down at her beaten nephew. He feels like he’s failing May, like he should be the one getting her instead of Wanda.

But Peter doesn’t get the chance to think. Iron-Man’s repulsors go off in a bang, blinding Peter and sending Alistair Smythe hurtling backwards. Tony flies forward, hands up in the air, ready to attack. Only Smythe is prepared. He sidesteps Tony, twists around and knocks Tony straight backwards. Peter attaches his web to Tony’s shoulder to stop him from hurling into the fencing around the viewing deck. With Peter off the ground, Wanda doesn’t spare a second. She shoots upwards, red spiraling around her as she makes her way to May.

Smythe digs his talons into the side of the building as he starts hurling himself to May. Peter thinks faster, though, because he gets a web around Smythe’s stomach and Peter pulls Smythe down. Smythe rounds on Peter, angry, snarling, blood coating his forehead, and charges forward. Without thinking, Peter flips out of the way and Smythe goes straight to where Iron-Man is hovering. Repulsors go off, sending the Ultimate Spider-Slayer tumbling. As Smythe passes Peter, Peter gets his webs hooked onto the talons jutting out of Alistair’s shoulders. Peter lands a deafening blow to Smythe’s chest. Alistair grunts with pain. “Get off,” he growls. He slices the webs to pieces and throws Peter into the fencing around the viewing deck.

Peter hits the fence and then collapses on the ground with a thud. “Ah, god,” Peter mutters as pain explodes in the back of his head. He lets himself reel in the pain for a second before coming to at the sound of metal snapping. His reflexes move faster than his words because just as he exclaims “ _shit!”_ , Peter is already launching forward, webs spewing out of his wrists and wrapping itself around the fencing that’s about to tumble down hundreds of feet. Peter himself stumbles as he strains to keep a good grip.

“I’ve got it,” Wanda whispers. Peter glances at her just as he sees her running past him. Scarlet mist propels herself over the ledge and then she drops off the side of the Empire State Building. A couple seconds later, Peter feels the heavy weight of the fencing slacken.

With peace of mind knowing that no pedestrian is about to get crushed, Peter focuses back on the fight at hand. May is cowering beside one of the telescopes, holding onto it for dear life as she watches Iron-Man swerving around Alistair Smythe, dodging talons and blasting off repulsors. Despite the chaos of the fight, Peter’s mind is only focused on May right now, and he runs to her.

“May,” Peter says as he reaches her side.

“P — Peter…” She manages through gasps. “I — I’m so… they just…” She glances at the open wounds, noticing immediately how blood-soaked his suit is. “Oh my god. You’re hurt.”

“It’s okay. I’m okay. You’re safe,” Peter whispers. He gathers her in his arms and he’s practically carrying her to the exit. “We’re going to get you out of here.”

They’re almost at the exit now. Just a couple more steps and they’ll be home free. And then, Iron-Man gets thrown backwards. A second later, Peter yanks May out of the way just before Smythe’s talon can impale her. She lets out a terrified scream. Peter recognizes that one of the telescopes is loose from the fight, so he hooks a web to it and flings it toward Smythe’s head. Peter gets a running start before hooking a web to the antenna of the building and using it to launch himself forward. He lands a terrible kick to Smythe’s head. Peter gets thrown off instantly, though.

“Stay away from my kid!” May yells. And Peter just stares in amazement as his aunt picks up the telescope and hits Alistair Smythe square in the head.

“Nice shot,” Peter compliments. He gathers himself and starts to think of an escape plan. Peter debates telling May to run into the elevator or take the stairs, but neither seem like a great idea. And Peter doesn’t have the strength to hoist her all the way down the Empire State Building. “Tony, get May out of here!”

Tony doesn’t need any further instruction. He grabs May by the waist and he's already dipping below the ledge of the Empire State Building. Peter feels more relaxed than he should considering he’s in the midst of a fight, but May’s safe. She’s with Tony. _She’s safe_ , and Alistair Smythe can’t hurt her anymore.

Peter hooks a web onto the antenna of the building and launches himself. He sidesteps one of the talons sticking out of Smythe’s back and kicks Smythe’s jaw. Peter doesn’t let up. He pushes Smythe face-first into the ground. “It’s over, man. May is gone. You have nothing left.”

“I’ll kill you before I give up,” Smythe says. Smythe launches himself at Peter. Peter feels Smythe’s hand grabbing hold of Peter’s neck. Peter fights to get free. They’re jerking around, tumbling, their holds on each other not loosening. The spidey-senses start going off… and Peter realizes why. They’re dangerously close to the edge of the building, dangerously close to the stop where the fence was torn off. Peter struggles to fight against Alistair, but he’s strong — and he’s not paying attention to the ledge. The two tip over the side. Alistair screams out in panic.

Peter’s fast. One hand is gripping onto a web that’s attached to the ledge, keeping himself from plummeting to his death and the other hand he uses to fling a web to get hold of Alistair Smythe. As the full strain of keeping himself from falling and supporting Alistair Smythe sets in, Peter yells out in agony. He takes a second to breathe deeply before exclaiming, “It’s okay! I’ve got you!” He feels his muscle burn in agony as he desperately keeps hold of Alistair. “You — you have to help me pull you up! I — I can’t do it by myself!”

“Why are you trying to save me?!” Alistair Smythe manages. He’s looking back and forth between Peter and the ground below.

Peter doesn’t need more than a second to know why. It’s the same reason why he saved the Vulture last year during their fight, the same reason why Peter doesn’t activate Instant Kill Mode. “Because it’s the right thing to do,” he says. It’s cliched, he’s aware, but that doesn’t make it any less true. “ _Help me get you up!”_ Peter feels his forearms knotting up, his fingers drenching themselves in sweat. “I can’t hold on much longer!”

Smythe stares at Peter, directly into his eyes. “I tried to kill you.” There’s a flash of a remorse in Smythe’s eyes, but that’s gone quickly.

"It doesn't matter!" Peter yells.

Smythe's face hardens. “It does to me.” Smythe raises the talons on his wrist.

“No, no, NO!” Peter screams but it’s no use. Alistair Smythe slashes the web that Peter was using to keep him secure. Alistair lets out a terrible scream as his body tumbles hundreds of feet below. 

Peter's breathing hitches for a long second. _It can’t be real._ Peter tried to save him… He _should have_ been able to save him. Why? Why? _Why_ did that happen?

“Oh my god… Oh my—” Peter feels the world spinning around him. He isn’t sure if he’s going into shock or if he’s exhausted or if this hysteria is from the blood loss or a combination of all three. For a second, he forgets that he’s hanging on the side of the Empire State Building. The webs strain under his weight and, for a second, Peter is terrified he’s about to fall. Only, Peter feels someone grabbing hold of the web and hoisting Peter up. Someone strong because Peter doesn’t put any effort into helping. A pair of soft, shaky hands grab Peter’s shoulders gently and ease Peter to the ground.

“Easy kid,” Wanda whispers. “I have you.”

Peter turns to look at Wanda, who’s staring down at him with wide, anxious eyes. It’s not like Wanda hasn’t seen Peter look this beat up before. It’s not like Wanda isn’t used to fights like this… Wanda’s mouth is opening and shutting, but Peter can’t really identify any of the words that Wanda is saying. The next events that follow blur together. Wanda has Peter in her arms and they’re floating down toward the ground where the cops are scrambling around, taking statements of some of the witnesses; photographers are snapping photos and reporters are preparing themselves to give the late night news. Flashes of light from ambulances and police cars are blinding Peter.

Something soft, a blanket, is put around Peter’s shoulder. “Just sit, okay.” It’s Tony. He helps the youngest Avenger onto the stretchers. “We’re going to get you to a hospital.”

“But…”

“Don’t try to speak. You’re going into shock,” Tony urges.

“He died…”

“I know. I know, Peter. I’ll take care of it,” Tony whispers.

Tony gives Peter some space a couple minutes later. Peter sits on the stretcher, numbly, trying to take in his surroundings. He vaguely hears reporters shouting Spider-Man, requesting interviews and asking a barrage of questions that Peter has no interest in answering at the moment. The spidey-senses don’t help, for once. It makes everything seem sharper and makes it a lot harder for Peter to block everything out.

And then he hears “Peter?!” over the chaos of everything happening around him. Peter easily and quickly identifies the voice as May. It’s frantic, mixed with fear and anxiety but also surged with relief. Peter kicks off the blanket Tony forced around his arms. “Peter?!” May says again. They’re in public and she’s shouting his name, but it doesn’t matter. No one can hear her, anyway. “I’m coming!” It suddenly doesn’t matter how much pain Peter is in. The agonizing throbs in his calf suddenly subsides and the exhaust and dizziness that threatens to pull Peter into unconsciousness disappears. The pain all _doesn’t matter_ because May is safe and alive and unharmed.

He finds where May is standing in a matter of seconds. She is pushing her way through officers, who all turn to protest as she makes her way to her nephew. Peter pulls her into a monster hug, absolutely terrified that if he lets go of her for one second, she’ll be gone. “Oh god, I’m — I’m so sorry,” Peter manages before he chokes on a heavy sob. May is already crying into Peter’s shoulders and he pulls her even closer. “This was all my fault. I’m so sorry… I’m _so sorry_ .” It’s empty words, really, but Peter needs to say them. “I was so… _I can’t lose you, May_ …” Peter gets out. He draws in a heavy breath and falls silent. He lets himself hold May for a second longer. He tries to forget the guilt and the anguish over Alistair’s death. Peter lets himself be absolutely overjoyed knowing that May is safe and in his arms.

She reciprocates the feeling. “You were so brave.”

“I was brave… You… You hit that guy with a telescope, May,” Peter compliments.

May smiles a watery one. “I wasn’t going to let him hurt my kid.” She gathers Peter into another fervent hug. She looks over at the cameras and the civilians staring and she flushes red. “Oh… Um… There's so many people...” 

“It’s okay,” Peter whispers. “We’ll figure something out.”

They stand together for a long second, May clinging onto Peter and Peter trying to keep himself standing tall. The cameras continue to click. “Let’s hear it for Spider-Man!” Someone yells. And then the clapping starts. Loud, thunderous, enthusiastic. Peter risks a quick glance in the direction of the crowd. The faces in the crowd are a mix of men and women, young, old, different races, different backgrounds, and yet they all stand together in front of Peter _applauding_. It’s silly and a little arrogant, but Peter lets himself bask in the applause. Appreciate it and everyone who supports Spider-Man. Lets himself feel like a hero.

Lets himself feel like an Avenger.


	12. We're Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry it's taken so long to post this last chapter, but school has been crazy. I have midterms coming up so I've been pretty busy. Not to mention, I hit a few roadblocks trying to figure out how I wanted to end this chapter but I'm happy with the ending!
> 
> Anyway, this is it for this story. Super crazy to think that I originally planned this as a pretty short story with just a couple of chapters and instead, it turned into this.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone that left kudos, commented and bookmarked this story. It means so much!

Chapter 12: We’re Family

It practically takes a miracle for Tony to get May and Peter away from the inquiring police, the stubborn and persistent DODC and, of course, away from the prying eyes of the media. Peter says his goodbyes to all the New Yorkers coming out and yelling and applauding for Spider-Man. He really does appreciate how much they support him, but he’s still pretty grateful when he’s sitting in the ambulance (Tony’s insistence, not Peter’s choice) and they’re driving back to the compound. Tony and Wanda are following the ambulance in Tony's stolen Audi while May is sitting beside Peter, clutching onto his hand for dear life.

May’s been handling herself pretty well given everything that’s happened. Besides some bruising and the risk of going into shock, she isn’t hurt. She denies needing any form of medical attention, insists on staying with Peter the entire time. It’s good for both her and Peter, perhaps, for them to be together. Provides both with a much needed sense of security, one that both have been lacking pretty recently.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Peter whispers. It feels excruciating to even talk but he wants to know, _needs_ to know to make himself feel better.

May turns to look at him. She’s still shaking as she reaches forward to press a kiss on Peter's forehead. “Yeah.”

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Peter insists. “I’d understand.”

“I’m more concerned about getting you some medical attention than I am worried about myself right now,” May admits. She turns to look to the driver of the ambulance, some young, strapping new EMT that got lucky enough to visit the Avenger’s Compound. Because it’s a non-Avenger driving the ambulance, Peter has to keep the mask on, which is annoying and frustrating and doesn’t really help with the nausea he’s experiencing. “How close are we to the compound?”

“Pretty close,” the driver mutters back.

The EMT sitting next to the driver turns around and says, “Do you need anything ma’am?”  

May shakes her head. “No. I’m fine,” she assures. Like Peter, the two EMTs don’t look convinced but they already spent fifteen minutes trying to convince May to ride in her own ambulance and they don't want to have anything argument with her. 

With May not saying a word and the EMTs focused on getting to the compound, there isn’t much to distract Peter from how much pain he’s in, even with the anesthetics and his already sped-up healing process. Half the drive over, Peter’s eyes feel heavy, so heavy that the world around him blacks out and Peter can’t tell if he’s conscious or not. Peter is partially afraid to let himself to succumb to unconsciousness. His heart races every time he isn’t lying there staring at May and making sure she’s okay. The only source of comfort he has with knowing that she’s 100% safe and with Peter is her gently brushing her fingers against his sore arms.

The ambulance _finally_ comes to a stop. Both May and Peter let out a sigh of relief as the doors open wide. Tony and Wanda are standing outside, as well as Steve and Sam. They seem perfectly fine, too. Steve clambers inside first, going to help carry Peter out of the ambulance no doubt. Though Peter isn’t exactly the lightest person ever, Steve lifts Peter up without so much as a look of strain on his face. Steve hops out of the ambulance with May on his tail where Peter barely registers that the other Avengers are waiting, looking down at the youngest team member with concern.

“How’s he doing?” comes a concerned voice. _Wanda_. She’s walking a little in front of Steve, and right behind here is Tony.

“He hardly talked in the ambulance,” May says. “But I think he’s doing better.”

“Helen Cho is already set up in the infirmary,” Steve says.

“Thank god,” Tony mutters. He turns to look at May and puts his arm on her shoulder. “Do you need anything? Something to eat? Drink? There are other doctors on staff that can take a look at you if need be?”

May shook her head. “I would rather make sure that Peter is okay.”

“Don’t push yourself past your limits,” Steve warns.

“ _I’m okay_ ,” May urges. Peter can sense the hint of frustration in her voice, but at the same time, Peter is more concerned about May’s well-being than his own.

The conversation dies shortly afterwards (May is too headstrong for even the Avengers to change her mind so Tony and Steve don’t object as May follows them up the lawn and toward the front door). To Peter’s surprise, there isn’t much damage from whatever fight Steve and Sam got into. The glass window nearest the front door is shattered, there’s a few dents in the walls and the living room looks like a complete mess but it’s nothing that won’t be fixed within a week or two. Lying in a heap beside the kitchen counter are discarded piles of metal, rubbish from the fight.

“Are you guys alright?” May whispers. They’re almost to the infirmary, which is blindingly bright even with the mask on.

Steve nods. “Yeah. It was nothing Sam and I couldn’t handle.”

“That’s for sure,” Sam says, lightly. “How are you doing, kid?”

Peter just shrugs. Listening to the other’s conversation has to have been a good way for Peter to suppress how much pain he’s in. “Been better,” Peter admits.

“Sure, sure, kid,” Sam says.

Steve puts Peter onto the familiar feeling of the hospital bed, one that Peter can say he’s starting to get more and more acquainted with. The second Peter’s head hits the soft pillow, the little strength Peter had that was keeping him from completely collapsing disappears. Peter slumps into the soft cot, groaning slightly, and in response, he feels May clutch onto his hand tighter.

“Let’s get this suit off, yeah?” Tony whispers; Peter can barely register how close Tony actually is to him.

Peter is too weak to help Tony and May as they work to ease the suit off of him. First goes the mask. As the mask gets pulled off, Peter takes in a large breath of fresh air, even though the mask doesn’t suffocate him one bit. The lights up above are blinding and Peter’s senses hit him sharply for a brief second but he adjusts quickly. However, now that the mask isn’t inhibiting the rush of senses, the pain suddenly feels more and more agonizing.

He lets out a moan. “It… it hurts,” he manages.

“Yeah, I know,” Tony replies. “We’re getting some pain meds in you right now.”

Just as Tony says that, Peter feels something poking his arm. A few moments pass and the medication starts to take effect. Peter's body slowly starts to go numb, his head becomes heavy and he’s practically fighting the urge to pass out. Soft, gentle hands are starting to peel away the suit sticking to Peter and working to get a good look at the open wounds on his legs and arms.

Helen Cho takes perfectly good care of Peter, not that he expected any less. Most of his wounds aren’t deep enough to have done any serious damage so all Peter needed was some stitches. Though Peter never actually passed out, Helen gave him plenty of aesthetics so he was still pretty lucid. Vaguely, Peter could feel something sharp going in and out of the back of his calf. To keep Peter distracted, May turned on some classic 80’s music that she was used to play when Peter was a kid as well as holding onto Peter’s hands. “You doing okay?” May kept asking, but Peter could only muster enough energy to nod through clenched teeth. Tony and Wanda stayed, too.

By the time that Helen Cho was finished stitching up Peter’s body, it was well into Sunday morning. Helen Cho said her goodbyes, which was near impossible with May thanking her for a near five minutes, and Wanda eventually drifted away to go greet Nat, Vision and Bucky; those three arrived while Peter was getting stitched up. When it is just Tony, May and Peter left, May went to go turn the lights down and play whatever is on TV that looked interesting. May curls up beside Peter, and he comfortably slumps into her open arms.

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Tony asked, only he isn’t talking to Peter.

May nods. “Yeah.”

“They didn’t hurt you?” Tony says.

She shakes her head. “There was a knock on my door and when I went to answer it, I recognized Alistair and Spencer's faces. They said they would have killed Peter and me if I didn’t cooperate with them. I was scared, so I just went along with what they said… I should’ve…”

Tony puts his hands on May’s hands. “Everyone would have reacted the same way.”

May shrugs. “I’m just glad you showed up to help Peter.”

“Hey, it’s what family does for each other,” Tony chuckles.

Peter moves around a little in the hospital bed and musters up enough energy to say, “Where’s Spencer Smythe now?”

“When Natasha, Bucky and Vision came back from the Raft some agents came to pick up Spencer Smythe from the DODC warehouse,” Tony says. “Once Steve and Sam finished fighting off the other Spider-Slayers, they found Alistair Smythe waiting outside. He was pretty cooperative with the agents that picked him up. Promised that he would give up where all the other Spider-Slayers are, as well as tell the DODC whatever information he wanted with just one request.”

“Which is?” Peter asks.

“A funeral for Alistair Smythe,” Tony says. “I doubt the DODC would be willing to do that.”

“Why not?” Peter says. “They should do that for him. I mean, it’s his son.”

Tony shrugs. “Well, the Raft agents are't as humane as you are, Peter. It may not be right for us to deny that but it’s out of my hands.”

“Is it?” Peter asks. He straightens up. “I mean, I know Spencer Smythe tried to kill me but… his son died, Tony. Let’s say Captain America died during the civil war and Ross didn’t want to hold a service? Would you have done it anyway?”

Tony frowns. “I guess. I’ll make a few calls. Make sure it happens.”

“Thank you,” Peter says. He lets out a huge yawn and leans into May’s shoulder.

“Alrighty, I think I’m going to leave you two to get some rest,” Tony says. He pats Peter on the shoulder lightly. “I’ll take care of everything Peter.” He gives Peter and May one last smile before walking out of the hosptial room.

With Tony gone, Peter doesn’t a waste second before he says, “I’m sorry May.”

“Shhh,” she says. She starts running her fingers through Peter’s hair, gently rubbing his forehead. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“It is, though,” Peter whispers. “Spider-Man was the reason you’re—”

“ _Alive_ ,” May insists.

Peter sighs, both out of relief and knowing that May won't tolerate Peter trying to apologize again. “I love you, May.”

May smiles. “Go to sleep, okay? I’ll be here when you wake up.”

* * *

Peter wakes up late that Sunday night, around dinner, where he finds that Wanda is sitting in a chair watching _Friends_ on Netflix. She’s holding a tray of food, which is for May and Peter to share. She’s also there to tell Peter that Tony’s promise about making sure that Alistair Smythe’s funeral happens holds true. Tony spent nearly all of Sunday on the phone bouncing around with different agents until he finally managed to get hold of Ross. An hour and half of arguing later (and Steve coming to be more diplomatic), and the funeral date is set for Tuesday morning.

That Tuesday morning, Peter starts his day with rolling out of bed at an early 8:00 and heads to Helen Cho’s office to get checked on. The gashes are pretty much healed so out goes the stitches, leaving thin, jagged scars running up and down Peter’s legs and arms. Feeling fortunate that the injuries he sustained during the fight wasn’t very severe, Peter heads back to his room where he throws open his closet and pulls out the freshly pressed suit. It’s expensive and designer, at least $150 out of May and Peter’s budget. It is a gift from Tony, one that he insists Peter can keep. Wearing anything this expensive makes Peter feel unnatural, like he doesn’t belong in this compound with that expensive suits. He swallows that feeling down, tries to forget it.

There’s also a new black tie lying on Peter’s bed. He picks it up and sighs. Ties were never his thing. Peter throws the tie over his shoulder and goes outside. It’s busy, full of the other Avengers piling inside, donning their most formal attire. Wanda and Natasha in their black dresses that fit them perfectly, like they were hand-made just for the two of them. Bucky, Vision and Sam are huddled together, with Steve trying to get their ties to look just right. Vision in a suit reminds Peter of a mannequin painted red.

“You hungry?” Wanda asks.

Peter turns to look at Wanda, and she’s staring down at him with a friendly smile. Unlike Peter and Tony, Wanda sustained no injuries during the fight. Peter wanted to know what happened to her after she stopped the fence from breaking, why she never came back to help. There were still civilians in the building. Something must have screwed up the elevator while they were trying to evacuate so they had to take the stairs. She helped get everyone out. Figured Peter and Tony could handle it.

“Bucky and I made muffins this morning,” she says. Wanda slides over a weaved basket and, sure enough, a pile of chocolate muffins sit inside.

“Bucky can cook?” Peter quips.

“I did most of the work,” Wanda admits with a smile. Peter laughs lightly and takes a muffin from the basket. “Nice suit.”

“Tony got it for me,” Peter says. “I don’t really have any nice clothes.”

Wanda just shrugs. “Neither do I, really.” She gently places her hand on Peter’s shoulder and gives him a warm smile before taking off to go stand by Vision.

Peter tentatively goes to occupy one of the stools in front of the island. He pours himself a cup of coffee (it’s amazing that Tony or Steve didn’t try to stop him), sets the muffin onto a ceramic plate in front of him and begins perusing through the newspaper sitting on the counter as he eats. The newspapers are still talking about the big fight at the Empire State Building, and Peter doesn’t really feel like reading about that. He flips through the newspaper before settling into reading sports articles.

There’s the sound of dress shoes clicking against the wood floor. Peter closes the newspaper and looks up to see Tony peering over Peter’s shoulder. Tony’s dressed in a pretty stylish three-piece suit, almost too formal for a funeral, though. Even with a couple of gnarly bruises, Tony looks great: freshly shaven, gelled down hair. “Didn’t know you were into sports,” Tony says.

“Just skimming through it,” Peter admits. He closes the newspaper. “Better than reading about that.”

Tony looks down at the article and sighs, “Are you doing alright? And be honest with me.”

Peter hesitates because what he’s feeling is more complicated than he’d like to admit. Most importantly, Peter feels _relieved_ that May is safe and unharmed and that she doesn’t absolutely hate Peter for him putting her in danger. But then again, being so relieved about May makes him feel guilty because he knows he’s the reason she was put into danger, and on top of that, Peter feels guilty because if he had been a little bit smarter, Alistair Smythe wouldn’t had died. He’s angry that Tony and Wanda didn’t try to save Alistair Smythe because they both would have been more successful than just Peter. But what makes it worse is that Peter is almost excited that he’s finally feeling like he has a place with the Avengers. That’s selfish and not important at the moment, but it’s this awful excitement that Peter wants to let himself feel.

“I could be worse,” Peter finally says, which isn’t completely a lie. Peter holds up the tie still slung on his shoulder. “Can’t get this thing on, though.”

Tony laughs. He takes the tie off of Peter’s shoulders and wraps it around Peter’s neck. Tony starts working the tie through intricate loops, twisting and straightening, like an art form unfamiliar to Peter. “How’s May?” Tony asks just as he finishes fashioning up a perfect windsor knot.

Peter shrugs. “She’s doing better. She’s making some calls to work right now.”

At first, both don’t say anything, as if waiting for the other person to make the next remark. Peter takes a huge gulp of coffee before saying, “Sorry I stole your car.”

Tony chuckles. “It’s okay. You didn’t get any scratches on it so you’re all forgiven.”

Peter smiles. There’s levity in the air but it disappears when Tony says, “You shouldn’t have had to do that by yourself.” That takes Peter by surprise, because Tony isn’t saying that Peter shouldn’t have done that. Tony added _by yourself_ at the end… Almost like… “You an Avenger, Peter. We’re a team. And we let you down.”

“No,” Peter quickly says. “How you would have known?”

“I knew you up to something when you said you were going for a walk, but I just figured you wanted to be alone. Not that Smythe had your aunt,” Tony says. He bites down on his lip. “You could have died out there, and that would have been on us.”

“It would have been on me. Honestly, if I had called you when I first went to Smythe Industries, this would be totally different,” Peter says, which is painstakingly true.

Tony shakes his head. “Being an Avenger means looking out for each other.”

“I know,” Peter says. “I’ll call you next time. And Steve. And Wanda. And Vision. I’ll call all of you guys.”

“Look, Peter, I know you can handle yourself. You don’t have to turn to us for every mission,” Tony says. “Everyone has solo missions, Peter. Just because we’re Avengers doesn’t mean we’re always going to be doing all the fighting together. And I _don’t_ expect you to call one of us every time you put the suit on. Honestly, we’ll probably just start to ignore your calls if you do. All I’m saying is that you’re not _expected_ to do everything on your own. Because we’re here for you, no matter what. If your car broke down and you need a ride home. If you want someone to come watch your Decathlon competitions. If you need someone to help you out in a fight. We’re here. We’re your family, Peter. We stick together.”

Peter smiles at Tony. Peter thinks back to himself at the beginning of the year, how absolutely stupid he was to not call Tony when he went to Smythe Industries. How arrogant and foolish he was acting. How _different_ this whole ordeal would have been if Peter had just called Tony. How Alistair Smythe would still be alive. How May wouldn’t have been put in danger. Guilt wrenches through Peter’s heart, but there’s also a part of Peter’s mind that’s completely aware there’s nothing he can do about what happened now. The past is the past. Cliched, but true nonetheless. All Peter can do is try to accept what happened, try to understand his mistakes and move forward, build from them.

The morning slips away fast and before Peter knows it, he’s being squished between Tony and May in a limo that’s supposed to take them to the nearest cemetery. It isn’t a long drive so Happy pulls the limo into the parking lot of the cemetry in a matter of twenty minutes. Outside, the air is chilly, a gray forecast overhead. And it’s quiet, _really quiet_ besides the sound of cars pulling up and leaves bristling against the wind. At the very least, quiet means that there aren’t a lot of unwanted people there. No media. No one coming to take pictures of the Avengers. That’s a source of comfort to Peter. No one is going to photograph that random teenage boy with the Avengers.

Alistair Smythe’s funeral is a private event, through and through. Other than the Avengers coming to pay their respects for a life lost, the other only people joining would be a couple coworkers, one or two friends, his father, and the couple government workers escorting Spencer Smythe to the premises. A lot of strings had to be pulled in order to get Ross to agree to let Spencer out of prison, but he’s here at least.

Peter watches as Spencer is helped out of a black SUV, cuffs on his ankles and wrists. Considering that Peter hasn’t really seen Spencer since what happened at the warehouse a little while ago, it sends chills down Peter’s back to see him again. The tufts of white hair, now even more thinned out than it was before, sit uncombed on the top of Smythe’s head. His eyes look weary, exhausted, _depressed_. It’s painful to see anyone that way, even someone that tried to kill Peter.

At first, Peter contemplates going to talk to Spencer, but one look at him, and Peter realizes now isn’t the time. Instead, the Avengers and Alistair Smythe’s friends and family go to stand around the casket. It’s beautifully done, apparently purchased by the little money that Spencer had in his account. Standing behind the casket is a priest dressed in black. Besides Spencer, no one gives Alistair a eulogy. Spencer’s speech is short, solemn, with very little sentimental feeling to it. Watching Spencer Smythe standing awkwardly in front of his friends and family, shifting back and forth, makes Peter’s heart wrench.

The funeral is over quickly. Feeble applause follows Spencer’s speech, and the government officials escorting Spencer are eager to get him back onto the SUV. Tony is urging Peter to go back to the limo for the Avengers, but Peter can’t make himself leave without saying something.

“Tony,” Peter says just before Spencer is hauled away, “Do you think I can say something to him?”

Tony takes one look at Spencer and frowns. “I suppose if that’s what you want. Not like I’d be able to stop you anyway.” Peter smiles a little and is ready to stop Spencer but Tony grabs hold of Peter’s shoulder. “Just so you know, kid, I’ve been in this business for a lot longer than you. And just because you’re really good at forgiving people that tried to hurt you, it doesn’t mean that other people are going to return the favor.”

Peter nods. “I know. But it’s worth a try.”

“Okay,” Tony says. “At least let me get Spencer. I doubt those agents would be willing to let some teenager talk to a high-profile criminal alone.”

“Right,” Peter mutters as he watches Tony make his way to the SUV. At first the officers escorting Smythe turn to glare at Tony. The adults exchange a few words (and Peter can tell no one looks to happy with the situation at the moment) but the guards reluctantly push Spencer Smythe into Tony’s direction. Without saying another word, Tony walks side by side with Smythe to where Peter is standing.

At that precise moment, Peter’s heart starts beating in his chest so fast he think it’s going to come out. Only, there’s no time for Peter to figure out what he wants to say. Peter stares at Spencer Smythe for an excruciatingly long moment, tension in the air thickening as the silent seconds continue to tick by.

“Uh hi,” Peter says when he doesn’t know what else to say.

Not much of a start to this kind of heavy conversation but at the very least, Spencer’s eyes don’t look as angry as he takes in Peter’s face. “You’re very young.”

“So I’ve been told,” Peter says. Perhaps humor isn’t the best way to handle this situation but it isn’t like there’s a guidebook or an e-how page on the best way to converse with the guy who’s son died trying to kill you.

“I suppose I should thank you for this,” Spencer Smythe says. He looks over at gravestones before adding, “This is what he would have wanted.”

“Uh yeah. No problem…” Peter looks down at his feet quickly, suddenly taking into account the fact that Tony is standing a few inches away. There’s a lot that Peter wants to say to Spencer right now and a lot that Peter hopes to hear back from Spencer. After a long second, Peter can’t help himself but say, “I tried to save him… Alistair, I mean. He… he…”

“Cut the web. I know,” Spencer says. “Doesn’t change the fact that he’s dead.” At first, Peter scans Spencer’s face for any sign of anger or bitterness, only there isn’t any. There’s a solemn, regretful look in Spencer’s eyes.

“Right,” Peter says.

“Is that it, then?” Spencer asks.

 _No_ , Peter thinks to himself, even though there really is still a lot that Peter wants to talk about. Only, he isn’t socially inept and he understands when someone doesn’t want to keep having a conversation. “Uh, yeah,” he stammers.

Spencer nods a few time, his brows furrowed. He glances back at the agents, who, upon Spencer Smythe’s stare, straighten out quickly. The federal agents start moving forward briskly, hands resting on their gun. “Be safe, Mr. Parker,” Spencer says as the federal agents grab hold of his shoulders. Spencer Smythe turns look at Peter for one last second, giving him a small nod, before walking off back to the SUV.

“So was that everything you wanted?” Tony asks.

It takes Peter a second to let the conversation settle in. “Yeah, yeah,” Peter repeats a couple of times. He isn’t lying to himself. At the very least, Spencer Smythe doesn’t hate Peter.

Peter watches as the SUV peels away before Tony puts his hand on Peter’s shoulder and gently guides the younger Avenger to the limo. The others are already waiting, talking in whisper but not turning to stare at Peter or Tony as they scoot their way to their respective seats.

“You okay?” May asks.

Peter looks over at his aunt. Even after everything she’s been through the past _year_  there’s a still a smile on her face, and Peter loves that about her.  He nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Peter puts his hand on May’s shoulder and turns to look at the Avengers, the closest people that he’s going to have as family.

* * *

Peter doesn’t go back to school until Wednesday morning once most of his wounds are clear. Not only does Peter make sure that he’s still caught up in homework as well as coming up with a good cover story for what happened to May, he also stops by the store to buy some roses. Peter wants to make sure that he meets up with Gwen and MJ to talk to them about what happened over the weekend. Talking to Michelle shouldn’t be that difficult but trying to apologize to Gwen for everything that happened isn’t going to be as easy for him.

As Peter goes to open the front door of Midtown, Peter feels eyes turning to look at him. _God, it feels like the mugging-thing all over again_ , Peter thinks to himself. Peter starts wandering around the halls, and for a second, Peter is wondering if someone is going to approach him before he gets the chance to talk to Gwen and MJ. Thankfully, Ned comes to his rescue.

“Dude!” Peter’s best friend yells. “Dude, I heard about what happened? Is May okay?”

Peter looks around uncomfortably, completely aware that his peers are turning to listen in on his and Peter’s conversation. Peter grabs hold of Ned and pulls him a little closer. “She’s good. A little freaked out but she’s okay.”

“And you?”

Peter nods quickly. “Yeah. Got a little beat up but Iron Man and Scarlet Witch showed up to help.”

“Awesome,” Ned says. “Dude, why didn’t you call me? I probably would have been able to help.”

“I know. I know. It’s just, they were monitoring your phone… or at least that’s what they said they were doing and I didn’t want to risk May getting hurt,” Peter says.

“I understand. But hey, you don’t have to worry about me. I’d do anything for you, man,” Ned says.

Peter smiles broadly. Every time he talks to Ned about this, the more and more he realizes how fortunate he is to have a friend like him. “Thanks man, I really appreciate it. You have no idea.”

Ned grins. They finally made their way to their lockers where Peter sees Gwen and her friends standing a huddle together. When Peter walks into view, Gwen turns to stare at him with wide eyes.

“So I heard your date didn’t go great,” Ned says, laughing.

“Very funny. I’ll talk to you later man,” Peter says. “Hey Gwen…” He feels his face instantly flush red as he takes a good look at her. She turns away from Betty and looks Peter up and down. She takes in the cuts on his face and the flowers in his shaky hand. “I just wanted to say—”

“It’s okay, Peter,” Gwen says. She puts her hand on his shoulder. “What happened to May is all over the news. It’s no wonder you weren’t in the right headspace for a date Friday night. You don’t need to apologize.”

That makes Peter’s heart tear in half, especially because he knows that it isn’t just Friday night that Peter is apologizing for. “No, no, you don’t understand. You are a really fantastic person, and you deserve someone a million times better than me who can actually treat you right. I just… I think I need to do some self-reflection before I try to get into a relationship,” Peter admits. It feels like a weight is being pulled off of his chest, like the expectations that he has to be able to do _everything_ is starting to go away. “I just wanted to give these to you… Just to say that I’m really sorry.”

Peter holds up the bouquet of roses and Gwen smiles. She takes it. “I know you’re not a bad guy, Peter. And one day, you’re going to make someone really happy… It’s not gonna be me, though,” she says, and she laughs lightly.

“See you later?” Peter says.

“At Decathlon practice tonight,” she says, sweetly. “And it looks like our captain wants to have a word with you.” Gwen turns to point toward one of the lockers a few feet away from them. Sure enough, MJ is leaning against someone else’s locker and watching Peter and Gwen. “Let me guess? You skipped your individual practice Saturday night?”

Peter grimaces. “I was busy…”

He turns to go to MJ when he hears Gwen yell after him, “I’m sure!”

Laughing slightly, Peter goes up to MJ. “I see everything worked out between you and Gwen,” MJ notes.

“Honestly, at least she doesn’t hate me,” Peter says.

There’s a long second of silence before MJ finally says, “I’m glad your aunt is okay.” There’s only a hint of genuine emotion in MJ’s eyes but she swallows it quickly. “Guess Spider-Man saved the day again, huh?”

“Guess the _Avengers_ saved the day is more like it,” Peter says.

MJ frowns. “Oh yeah. Keep forgetting that Spider-Man is now a part of the Avengers.”

Peter smiles, because he knows he won’t be forgetting that anytime soon. He hasn’t this kind of sense of belonging in a while. Not just with the Avengers and the fact that they’re ready for welcome a new team member. Or the fact that May is warming up to the idea of Peter’s alter ego. It’s at school, too. With his friends. A sense of permeance that’s been lacking since Ben died.

“These are for you,” Peter says. He gives MJ the remainder of the flowers he got.

“So, you’ll make it to Decathlon practice tonight?” MJ asks.

“I promise I won’t bail this time, _captain_ ,” Peter says.

“And you’ll actually show up to nationals?”

Peter smiles. “I’m looking forward to it.”


End file.
